Atlantic
by honeyandvodka
Summary: A new series about a certain British secret agent? Even if it meant no more Nikki Heat, the offer was a dream come true. A change of scenery and a fresh challenge were exactly what he needed. So why did Castle feel like instead of starting a new story, he was closing a book mid-chapter? AU from 'When the Bough Breaks'.
1. Chapter 1

**October 2009**

As dawn broke Beckett's bedroom filled with a muted light that stirred her. She awoke slowly, her dreams jumbling with reality. She was tangled, unable to move, and as she forced her way into consciousness, she sat upright, pushing the covers that had been twisted around her to the foot of her bed.

The alarm on her cell sounded, its pitch sharp at this early hour, and she glared at the device on her nightstand, stabbing at it until the sound was silenced. If only the echoes of her argument with Castle could be so easily hushed.

The sting of the previous night's conversation still rang in her ears.

 _She just needs a better writer!_

 _Fine, it's settled then._

 _Fine._

Was this really it? Did a year of working together really boil down to a single heated argument, closing the door between them forever?

She flipped her bedside lamp on, squeezing her eyes closed in an attempt to shut out the sudden flood of light and the memory of the way his dedication had looked on the page.

 _To the extraordinary KB._

He thought she was extraordinary?

 _I meant it, you are extraordinary._

But not extraordinary enough.

 _I_ _'ll do the other book._

A strangled sob escaped, and she brought her hand to her mouth to muffle the sound, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, trying to push away the memory of the way he'd looked everywhere but at her last night. She'd been tempted to overindulge, but every time she'd glanced at Castle he'd had yet another drink in his hand as he worked the room. In response, she'd stuck to mineral water, stubborn in her desire to hold on to the little control she had.

Fine.

He could do the other book. He could do whatever the hell he wanted.

She still had a job to do, and a murder to solve.

* * *

Beckett closed her eyes as she sipped from the paper coffee cup, its weight flimsy in her hands, the sleeve slipping, and she glared as it burned her thumb before she could get her grip right. The elevator shuddered to a stop, the doors opening with a chime, and she straightened her shoulders, bracing herself for the onslaught of the homicide floor. She stepped forward, her stride slowing as she got closer to her desk, unable to tear her gaze from the chair. _His_ chair.

Would he come in today, see the case out? Or, having signed his contract for the certain British secret agent, would he not set foot in the precinct again? Maybe he was in the break room-

She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts as she approached her desk, pausing when she saw his sunglasses next to the Russian stacking dolls, and, looking around the bullpen, her heart faltered.

He wasn't here. He really wasn't here.

It was over.

Well. That was just fine, wasn't it? This was, after all, what _she_ wanted; a Castle-free precinct.

Right?

"Yo, Beckett? Ready to hear the latest?"

Kate nodded at Esposito, draining the rest of the sub-par coffee and dumping the cup in the trash can closest to the white board, before turning her attention to the guys. "What have we got?"

* * *

The book launch party had been a success by every external measure.

The days in which he measured success based on whether or not he'd gone home with someone - not every time, but often, definitely - were long gone. But Castle couldn't shake the sense that last night could have been better. It wasn't that it had gone badly, exactly, more that he'd come home with a certain emptiness hanging over him, and the distinct feeling that the party had been a mere bookend to the one the year before when he'd launched the last _Storm,_ and _Nikki Heat_ had been born.

Beckett had wowed the crowd as Nikki; the press had eaten her up, hanging on her every word as she'd joked and flirted. It had been a facade. He was sure it had been a facade. He'd watched her from across the room, his eyes never leaving her for more than a minute. She'd been too stiff, her eyes flashing with annoyance that everyone else had interpreted as sass. And whenever he'd caught her eye she'd averted her gaze quickly - _too quickly_ \- and he was sure something was eating at her.

She didn't want to be Nikki Heat? Fine. She wouldn't have to be, not anymore.

"I've got the contract right here, Ricky," Paula had said. With her abrasive voice up in his business, he'd dragged his gaze from Beckett, taking the pen his agent had offered and scrawling his name in all the right spots before taking a deep breath and picking up a sharpie, zeroing in on the closest fans. This was what people wanted, right? Chest signings, flirtation? He could do that in his sleep. And he was done playing at being something more, pretending like he could go deeper.

Shallow playboy had gotten him this far in life, and if Beckett didn't want him by her side any more - not that she ever had - then fine.

He would find someone who did.

He'd turned his dazzling smile on to a group of women across the room, wiggling his eyebrows at them, and, studiously avoiding Kate Beckett for the hundredth time, he'd picked up a glass of champagne and strode across the room to play the crowd.

This morning he was paying for it; too many glasses of wine had been chased by one too many scotches once he'd made it home, and now he was left staring at his cell, desperate for a distraction. He opened his contact list before closing it again and putting the phone on the desk. Clearly she wasn't going to call. And if he was so unwanted, well, enough was enough. He wasn't going to slink into the precinct and follow around after Beckett a moment longer. No. He had a _certain British secret agent_ to write now, and in the harsh light of day, he had to admit the contract he'd signed was damn appealing.

More money.

He sighed, the sound bitter as it left his lips, and he scrubbed a hand over his face, last night's five o'clock shadow honest to goodness stubble now.

Money wasn't everything.

But Beckett's words were haunting him, and he swore as her voice played in his skull on repeat.

 _A better writer. She just needs a better writer!_

He wasn't going to bother her anymore. He wasn't going to bother anyone. He was going to stay the hell away from the precinct from now on. But when his phone sounded, his heart leaped and he cursed its betrayal even as his hopes were dashed when Paula's name lit up the screen.

"Hi."

"What's wrong with you, Rick?" Paula's nasal tones shrilled loudly through the line and he winced, running a hand through his hair.

"Nothing, I'm okay," he lied, raising his eyebrows as Paula cleared her throat, continuing.

"Good, good. Because Rick, they want you, you know that, and I don't care how hungover you are because we need to talk-"

He wrinkled his nose, his eyes narrowing. "Yeah?"

"They're a little concerned about just how authentic you can make it."

Castle shrugged. "I signed the contract already, Paula," he reminded her.

"I know, I know. They just-now, I told them you wouldn't be able to move, but they just suggested-"

"Move?" Castle blinked. That second - and the third and the fourth - scotch last night had been an awful idea.

"Yeah. Keep up," Paula instructed, and he groaned.

"They want you to move to London, get some authenticity-"

"Lond- What?"

The dull thud in his head increased in tempo and he massaged his scalp, willing the increasing roar of his headache - headache, hangover, heavy sense of shame - away. What the hell was Paula talking about?

"They were so impressed with the way sales for Nikki Heat have already been going this morning, and when they found out you shadowed an NYPD detective, they wondered if you would move to London. Just for six months. They know you shadowed someone at the CIA too, and they had this _crazy_ idea- Now, don't worry, Ricky." As the speed of Paula's speech increased, so did her volume, and he found himself moving the phone away from his ear.

"I told them you wouldn't move. That you couldn't move. Although honestly, if you want my opinion, a change would do you the world of good."

 _London._

The word echoed and he closed his eyes, imagining it.

He wouldn't need much space, just a writer's garret. The idea had a certain appeal, and he smiled at the romanticism of it all. Some time to himself against the backdrop of an historic and exotic city. It couldn't hurt.

Or would he need a two bedroom? What would Alexis say?

Alexis wouldn't want to move. Would she? Still, if he went for a six month stint - he could let her make her own choice. Although if she wanted to stay in New York, could he really leave her here with his mother for half a year? He snorted. Yeah, maybe the other way around. He could leave his mother in Alexis' responsible hands for six months, that was an option.

He could write the certain - _Bond_. He could write Bond - he'd signed the contract, he had no more fear of jinxing it - from a modest apartment in the heart of London. Get some travel in, see Europe.

And be halfway around the world from Beckett.

"I'll do it." The words left his lips before he'd finished thinking them through, and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"You'll- Rick, are you _insane_?" The exclamation would sound rude coming out of anyone else's mouth, but it was Paula. Rough and ready was her style, so he bit back his retort.

"Some conditions," he added. "Six months. No more. And they need to figure out who I'm shadowing at MI6. I'm not barreling in there without an invitation. And I'll need an apartment, something-"

"Rick?" Paula interrupted. "Really?"

"I'm- a change of scenery would be good," he told her, a thin smile finding its way onto his lips as Paula coughed and spluttered and swore on the other end of the phone.

"What about Alexis?" she asked, triumph resounding in her voice, and he shrugged, well aware she couldn't see him - and grateful for it.

"We'll work through the details. Figure something out." Through the living room he heard the sound of the front door creaking open and then clicking shut, and he cleared his throat. "Just do what you need to do, okay? Let me know, and we'll talk later." He hung up before Paula could get another complete sentence in, plastering a smile on his face as Alexis poked her head around the open bookshelves and into the office.

"Hey, Dad," she greeted him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm, uh... writing?"

"Really?" She fixed him with one of her patented _I don't believe you_ looks.

"I was talking to Paula," he admitted. "About a certain- about writing Bond."

"Right." Alexis' eyes narrowed. "I still don't know why you want to stop writing Nikki Heat. I mean, I thought everything was going so well with Beckett."

Castle sighed. "It's... complicated, honey. And an opportunity like this doesn't come along every day."

"I guess."

"So, uh, Paula told me they want me to move to London." He paused. Yeah. Way to ease into that conversation. _Alexis, I_ _'m about to turn our lives upside down_. Good one, Rick. "Crazy, huh?" He chuckled in an attempt to stave off further conversation, but Alexis' eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"London! Dad, are you serious! You're going to say yes, right?" He swallowed. Maybe she didn't need to know he'd already agreed. Her eyes flashed with excitement. "I've always wanted to live abroad!"

* * *

Castle raised the wine glass to his lips again, swallowing the rich red down to buy himself a moment, but his mother was having none of it as she chastised him, her tone sharp.

"Really, darling? _London_?" Martha wrinkled her nose and he glared at her.

"Really," he retorted. "Paula thinks it's a good idea, and-"

"Well if Paula thinks-" Martha threw her hands up in the air. "But this all sounds like a knee-jerk reaction to the little tiff you and Beckett had last night, and I just don't want you doing something you'll regret."

He grimaced, his mother's words hitting a little too close to home. "No. This has nothing to do with Beckett. There just wasn't enough to the character."

 _Liar._

The words sounded as false now as they had when they'd first spilled from his lips, leaving Beckett looking like he'd slapped her. He swallowed. "Like I said, Paula thinks - and I think - that it's time to try something new. And if new is London, well-"

"Well, you'll go to London," Martha finished, and he nodded. "And what, pray tell, are you planning to do with the loft? Have you even thought that far? And Alexis? Surely you can't just take her out of school for a year."

"Six months," he said. "Six months. And I can. It's not that different to a study abroad program, lots of kids take a semester overseas. As for the loft-"

He hesitated. This was not exactly ideal, but how many parties could his mother host in six months, really?

"I figured on you continuing to live here, exactly as you have been."

"I see." Martha looked mollified, and he hummed his tacit disapproval under his breath. "Well, it really sounds like you've thought of everything, then."

"I have."

"Well, make sure you say goodbye to your friends at the precinct properly," Martha finished, standing and turning toward the door. "You wouldn't want to burn any bridges."

* * *

Castle forced a smile onto his face as the elevator doors opened, striding into homicide for the first time in a month with false bravado.

His expression faltered as his gaze fell on Beckett hunched over her desk, her eyes trained on the computer screen. He knew that look. Her shoulders carried the weight of the world, tension and heaviness dragging on her, and his fists clenched as he fought the impulse to reach for her, ease the strain of her muscles with his hands.

No.

They'd never had that, and they never would.

Something new. That was what he needed. Writing Nikki Heat had been a start, a way of breaking the monotony that Derrick Storm had offered. She'd been a way to escape Gina's hold on him and Storm, and she'd been a way to try his hand at something new by spending time consulting with the NYPD. But that was over. He'd written a dozen books without any input; he didn't need Beckett - he didn't need the Twelfth Precinct - to write a dozen more.

"Castle, hey, man." Esposito saw him first, and he nodded at the detective, noting the way Ryan grinned at him, his smile not quite meeting his eyes as he shot a concerned look in Beckett's direction.

Her head whipped around and as she met his stare, he could have sworn he saw something flare - hope? anger? - before a polite smile painted itself across her lips, her eyes blank.

"Hey, Castle," she greeted him, her tone the epitome of casual, and he forced his own neutral expression onto his face. "You forgot your sunglasses."

She opened her desk drawer, taking them and holding them aloft, and he reached for them, blinking as their fingers brushed, his hand jerking back.

"Thanks," he managed, looking around and focusing in on the murder board to try and avoid staring at Beckett. "So, uh, what's going on?"

"Castle!" Roy Montgomery's voice boomed across the bullpen. "You don't need to be looking at that, you've got bigger fish to fry now!"

"Right," he agreed. "Right."

"So let's get this party started," he suggested, tilting his head toward the break room, and Castle nodded, throwing one last look at the white board and today's unlucky victim, before following the Captain.

"London, huh?" Ryan asked. Castle nodded, grinning at the note of envy that entered the detective's voice. "I wish I could travel for work."

"What are you talking about, Bro?" Esposito asked. "We were in Jersey yesterday. Crossed a state line and everything."

"Whatever." Ryan shook his head at his partner. "Doesn't count."

"Where would you go?" Castle asked, grabbing a beer and closing his eyes as he leaned back against the counter. He breathed in; the sour smell of the bitter coffee, the comforting scent of the old air-conditioning, and the faint hint of cherries-

He jerked his head up, his eyes snapping open again as he took a sip of his beer, letting the clean, hoppy smell of the liquid overtake everything else. "...And of course, I have hundreds of relatives in Ireland," Ryan continued, and he nodded, blinking. He'd been listening. He'd totally been listening.

"What about you Beckett?" he asked, and she shrugged, her hand wrapped around her untouched beer.

"I haven't traveled much since my semester abroad," she said. "Maybe one day." She lifted the bottle to her lips, effectively ending the conversation, and Castle felt his brow tighten.

"Hey," he started, stepping toward her and extending his hand to hers before dropping it, the peculiar look Esposito shot him enough to stop him in his tracks. But his mother had insisted he make peace, and he knew she was right. It wasn't okay to just skip out like this. Not on Kate. Not when they could part on good terms. "You okay? Are- are we okay? Because we-"

"Sure." She was frowning though, her lips pursed, her expression in opposition to her words. Her free hand drifted up to the bottle enclosed in her left and she slid a nail under the label, picking at it as she refused to meet his eyes.

"I just- I don't want you to be mad at-" he started, but her phone buzzed, silencing him and she set her drink on the counter, pulling the device from her pocket to check the message.

"It's fine, Castle," she said, finally looking up at him, her expression softening at last. "We're fine." She shrugged. "But I have to go."

"It's seven pm. I thought you were off-duty," he protested, holding his own bottle up, and she shook her head.

"We're mid case. You know that means we're never really off-duty."

He nodded. Yeah. He did know that.

"Come on, guys," she said, and Esposito and Ryan set their own barely touched drinks beside Beckett's. "Good luck in London." Her smile didn't reach her eyes as her fingers ran over the metal shield clipped to her belt.

Montgomery chuckled. "See. This is why being Captain has its advantages. These guys think I'm chained to my desk, but really, I just like to go home at a reasonable hour, and enjoy a drink now and then."

Castle laughed with him, the sound hollow as he watched the team file out of the room without him, the unvoiced _'you coming, Castle?'_ causing a clenching in his gut that had him take a step forward as if stumbling at an assault.

He took another sip of his drink but it was stale in his mouth now. "Guess I'd better go too," he mumbled, his gaze still trained on Beckett's back as she stepped into the elevator, and he watched as she turned, raising a hand in farewell before the doors closed on her.

So much for goodbye drinks.

He tipped the rest of the beer into the break room's sink, tossing the empty bottle into the recycling before clapping a hand into Roy's.

"Thanks for everything. "

The word _traitor_ echoed in his mind though; thanking Roy was fine, but really, he needed to thank Beckett. The total of ten seconds half-assed small talk was not enough; he couldn't shake the feeling that leaving things like this was leaving something unfinished.

He cleared his throat, forcing the smile back onto his lips as he turned to go.

Everything ended.

This was just the end of one story.

Next up, _James Bond_ , super-spy.

But as he made his way to the elevator, his eyes lingered on the elephants displayed on Beckett's desk. Beside them, the Matryoshka dolls he'd purchased during their last case together held court.

Why did he feel like, instead of a new story, he was closing a book mid-chapter?

* * *

 **A/N: I have been working on this longer than I care to remember (I stopped to write _Come with me_ ) but it's close enough to done now that I feel confident hitting publish. Not too much more for me to write. A quick disclaimer... someone wrote a fic in which Castle was going to move to London when he got the Bond offer, and at some point in my head I thought that was canon. I know now it's not, and so to that part of the idea I thank whichever author wrote that... thing is, I have no idea who it was, or when, or what fic. So... thank you. And if anyone knows where I borrowed the idea from, please let me know.**

 **Thanks to Jamie and Kylie for their beta-prowess.**

 **And thank you for reading... as we enter the unknown for the next hiatus tomorrow I figured that wasn't such bad timing for an old school season two AU!**


	2. Chapter 2

**January 2010**

Beckett stepped out from behind the wheel, shivering as she pulled her scarf closer around her neck, the bite of the season chilling her in spite of the warmth of the thick wool. Winter was coming in hard and fast, and the heavy jacket she'd donned this morning was just barely keeping the cold at bay. The wind whipped around her, and she shuddered as it screamed through the deserted warehouses they'd found themselves at.

"You okay, Beckett?" Ryan asked as he and Esposito got out of their own unmarked police vehicle, and, not for the first time, she cursed working with a team of detectives who were just as in tune with her as she was with them.

"I'm fine," she lied as Esposito shot his partner a warning look. Chastened, Ryan nodded, casting his gaze straight ahead.

"Come on, let's check this out," Esposito urged, pointing to where the uniforms were waiting for them, and she ducked under the yellow tape, following him over to the warehouse's entrance.

"What have we got?" she heard Ryan ask an officer she didn't know, and she glanced around, taking in the scene. From here it looked no more sinister than any other quiet street in New York, but from one instant to the next things could change so easily - whether it be an inconspicuous alley at midnight or downtown in broad daylight... She sighed. Things changed, usually for the worse, in the blink of an eye.

Didn't she know it.

"Body's inside."

"And we're sure it's related to the case we caught yesterday?" If it wasn't, she'd kill the uniform who had called it in. She had a murder board back at the precinct and the gory case on it was already burning a hole in her retina.

"Not sure of anything yet." Lanie's familiar voice caught her attention, and she looked up, smiling at her friend who stood in the open doorway. "But it looks like it. Same caliber gunshot wounds, plus writing on the body. Kind of weird. You'll love it."

"Sounds like the kind of case Cas-" Ryan stopped - this time off Lanie's sharp glare - and Kate forced her expression to remain neutral.

"Okay." She met Lanie's gaze, raising an eyebrow at her. "Let's take a look."

She paused though, something not quite right, and she glanced back at her vehicle parked amongst all the other patrol cars before looking directly up. Above them, a passenger jet flew low, its path sure as it made its way through the sky, away from the city.

And she swallowed down the sob that wanted to escape.

He'd left two months ago; it was time to move on.

She wasn't Nikki Heat, and he wasn't Jameson Rook. She had no hold on him, and they owed each other nothing.

It wasn't his fault that she was having a crappy day, and more to the point, that their little ride-along was over. Before Castle had pushed his way onto the scene, she, Ryan and Esposito had made a great team, and they would continue to do so.

"You coming, Beckett?" Esposito called, and she nodded, shrugging off the heavy sense of regret, stepping across the threshold and into the building to survey the awaiting body.

* * *

Castle let the door close behind him, the soft click as the lock slid into place oddly calming. This apartment had been a good find. Half the size of the lower floor of the loft, the two bedroom still managed to feel spacious and inviting, a good temporary option that provided respite from the busy city that bustled by just outside the front door. The balcony off the living room extended over a small garden out the back, and he looked forward to the weather warming up enough that he could take his laptop out there and write in the sunshine.

For now, however, he would have to stay inside. He took his coat off, hanging it in the hall closet before reaching for the thermostat, sliding the dial up a few degrees, the impossibly low numbers of centigrade making his head swim.

He had to admit, the eternal Celsius versus Fahrenheit wasn't the only thing that made his head swim these days. Adjusting to life abroad wasn't easy. Not that anything had gone wrong in the four weeks in which he and Alexis had been living in London. Her school transfer had been simple to arrange, Marlowe Prep happy for one of their star pupils to wrap up the semester early. The apartment had been furnished, tasteful and simple decor filling the rooms, and in spite of the winter, the southern aspect meant that both his bedroom and the living area were light-filled. And thanks to the contact he'd been assigned, his visits to MI6 had gone smoothly.

Too smoothly.

There was no back and forth. No banter. No games. No play.

Martin Cunningham had accepted the author tag-along in what Castle could only assume to be a cool British manner. The man was neither forthcoming nor circumspect, a perfect gentleman as he attempted to give Castle a bird's eye view of the organization without revealing state secrets.

Castle had been granted access to a predetermined number of documents and files, with just enough redacted in each and every one of them to put them on the wrong side of interesting. Every question he had was considered carefully by Cunningham before the answer was deemed classified, yet the team he'd met insisted over and over that he was very welcome there.

One of Cunningham's colleagues had gone so far as to smile at Castle when she'd admitted she was a huge fan of _Bond_ and couldn't wait to see what he was going to do with the next incarnation of the spy. Several people on the floor he was allowed to tour had brought in copies of various _Storm_ books for him to sign, as well as the ubiquitous _Heat Wave_.

He'd signed that one with a heavy heart.

Even shadowing Sophia Turner had been more useful than this lip service. Although his time at the CIA - and with Sophia - couldn't compare to the home he'd managed to find at the Twelfth. He trudged into the kitchen, the peace he'd found when he'd entered the flat dissipating as unhappy memories of the past - and the many fights he'd had with Sophia - burned through his mind. Inexplicably drawn together, ultimately imploding, he and Sophia had managed to have a good time together for six months or so. And even if their relationship had been more about sex than insights into the agency, it had at least been fun while it lasted.

If he was truthful, though, he'd been equally enthralled by the technology at her disposal as he had been with the woman herself.

The NYPD didn't have the flashy gadgets that were available in either the British or the US intelligence agency, and his relationship with a certain detective may have been purely platonic, but if this walk down memory lane was to be entirely honest, he had a certain... _longing_ to be back with the team in New York.

With Alexis at school, and his time at the MI6 office reminiscent of a boring internship, it was altogether too quiet in his world.

He missed Kate Beckett.

* * *

Castle swung around on his swivel chair as Alexis burst through the door, shaking her hair out as she pulled her cap off.

"Hey, sweetie, how was your day?" he asked, closing the lid of his laptop and grinning at his daughter.

She beamed, her cheeks pink from the cold outside. "Good! Great! I just love it here." She swooped in on him, kissing his cheek and practically vibrating with joy as she sprang across the open plan room into the kitchenette, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of water. "I know we've been here for a month already, but I swear, I just can't get over how welcoming everyone has been. And, oh my gosh, Dad, their accents. Adorable!"

She paused to take a sip of her drink and he took the opportunity to get a word in. "Yeah? You don't… miss your friends at home?"

She shrugged, leaning against the counter, her eyebrows knitted together as she considered his question. "Well, uh- no. Not really. I mean, I've been skyping with everyone. Even Gram." She giggled. "Although I swear, she still doesn't quite get it."

"You're not wrong," he agreed, faking a grimace at the memory of their conversation with his mother a few days earlier; her refusal to use the webcam unless her hair was 'just so' had delayed the conversation for a solid two hours while she prepared.

"And you know, before Christmas vacation I didn't really get into the school work, but now I am, and, I'm not behind at all."

"With what I pay for Marlowe Prep, I hope not!" he snorted.

"And guess what?" Alexis' apparent monologue continued as though he hadn't said a word. "I caught the bus home with one of the girls in my class- she lives on the next street!"

"That's wonderful." Alexis' excitement was contagious, and he felt his own grin stretch across his face as he shook off the latent loneliness that had been creeping in. "What do you want to do to celebrate? Dinner somewhere? Or shall we make a start on learning to cook English specialties?"

"Oh, I wish I could." Alexis' forehead creased into a frown and he felt his smile falter. "But I just came home to get changed, and then Emma and I are going back into town. She's going to show me around."

"And Emma is...?"

"My new friend." Alexis grinned. "You'll meet her, I promise." She looked at her watch, letting out a yelp. "Oh no! I'm going to be late!" She darted back into the hallway heading for her bedroom, and he watched her go, his face falling once she was out of sight.

So much for spending quality time with his favorite redhead. He shrugged, reopening his laptop before standing and walking over to the kitchen, returning Alexis' water bottle to the fridge and filling the kettle for himself.

* * *

Castle made a face as he swallowed down another sip of the tea he'd made himself. So much for the romance of life in England; the picture he'd painted himself - however briefly - of a writer's garret, typing to the steady ticking of a grandfather clock, perhaps, as he sipped Earl Grey or English Breakfast…

The reality was yet to measure up.

His lip curled as he considered his situation. Maybe it was the tea. He had stared down the selection at Tesco, closing his eyes and pulling an unfamiliar brand from the shelf. He made a face at the teacup, standing and striding from his spot on the sofa - what Alexis had dubbed his office - back to the kitchen, tipping the rest of the liquid into the sink. He couldn't live like this, and, pulling his phone from his back pocket, he ran a quick Amazon search, selecting one day-shipping.

He sighed then, an audible groan - all too aware that he was the only one around to hear it - before glaring back at the living room. Alexis would be another hour, at least, so he walked into the entry hall, shrugging into his coat and taking his house key from its hook by the door, as well as a notepad and pen.

The coffee machine would arrive tomorrow. Meanwhile, he'd seek out another kind of solace. He'd written one of his first novels in the Old Haunt, and if London couldn't provide him with a drinkable cup of tea, surely he'd be able to find a decent pint and hole up in a booth somewhere, find the words the old fashioned way.

* * *

The two victims had most definitely been connected, and a combination of luck and Ryan's knack for combing surveillance footage meant they'd narrowed down their pool of suspects by six in the evening. They'd had a confession by nine and their delusional perp had been down at Central Booking by ten, leaving only paperwork for Beckett in his wake.

Ryan and Esposito had shot her puppy dog eyes from across the bullpen, tag teaming in their thinly veiled quest to beg off, and she'd waved them toward the elevator with a roll of her eyes as she dotted her I's and crossed her T's.

By the time Beckett had made her way out of the precinct it was eleven thirty, and she swept a tired hand over her face as she brought her key to the lock, letting herself into her apartment and making her way to her bedroom, throwing her phone onto the nightstand. She was exhausted. This afternoon when she'd glanced in a mirror at the precinct the circles under her eyes had circles, and as she crossed the threshold from her room to the bathroom, she made a face at her herself, adjusting the lights so as to avoid illuminating her reflection as she brushed her teeth.

With a lingering look at the tub, she replaced her toothbrush in the cup by the sink, grabbing a washcloth and running it under the water, wiping the day's make-up from her face and tossing the cloth into the dirty clothes hamper. She undressed, today's outfit making its way in too, and she slipped back into her bedroom, selecting a fresh set of pajamas - purple shorts and a gray tank - before sliding between the sheets.

Barring an unwelcome call from dispatch, case closed meant she didn't need to be in at the precinct before nine. She fumbled around for a second, clicking the cable into place so her phone would charge overnight, before turning the lamp off and falling into the welcome oblivion of sleep.

* * *

Castle stretched, trying to work the kinks out of his back and neck. So much for getting a good night's sleep. Post pub writing jaunt he'd tossed and turned most of the night, not sinking into a deep sleep until around five this morning. An hour later the toneless alarm of Alexis' cell phone had woken him, followed by the groan of the pipes as she'd stepped into the shower.

The loft - open bookshelves and all - was all the more appealing, this side of sleeplessness.

This flat was perfect when he was well rested, but right now he was questioning his decision to sign the lease. Perhaps he should have sought out something with two levels. Back in New York, having Alexis and his mother ensconced upstairs while he'd had free reign of the lower floor had been ideal. He'd always assumed it worked for them; he couldn't disturb anyone with his sometimes nocturnal writing habits and occasional video game benders.

The faucet shuddered off, and he relaxed, easing the pillows off his face, determined to fall back asleep. But the steady beat of water was replaced with the whir of the hairdryer, interjected with regular upbeat chirps from his daughter's phone. He opened an eyelid, glaring at the clock on his nightstand.

Did she really have to start text messaging before seven in the morning?

He groaned. He should be glad she was making friends. In fact, he _was_ glad Alexis was making friends. After all, one of them should be happy here.

Admitting defeat as the front door slammed, signaling Alexis' departure, he sat up. Sleep wasn't happening, and, reaching for his own cell, he swiped to unlock it. He blinked as his fingers acted of their own accord, pulling Beckett's name up on the screen.

His thumb hovered over her number, and lying back down, he swallowed. Was he really going to do this? He stared at her name a second longer, before an unrestrained impulse had him tapping the screen and bringing the phone to his ear as it started to ring.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you guys so much for the reads, faves and follows and especially the kind words in the reviews! It felt like it had been ages since I wrote and posted and it feels good to be back on the horse! x**


	3. Chapter 3

**January 2010**

The sound of the phone shrilled just once before Beckett's eyes flew open, and she darted her hand from under the covers to the nightstand, answering before the second ring could finish, already cursing dispatch and the as yet unidentified killer who was dragging her away from the much needed slumber.

"Beckett."

Silence greeted her on the other end, and she frowned, bringing a hand to her forehead to push her hair out of her face, blowing at a couple of stubborn strands before trying again.

"Hello?"

"Beckett?"

She blinked, exhaling as the tension eased out of her muscles; not a body drop, and therefore not a demand to be on high alert, ready to move. The familiar voice though…

"Castle?!"

She sat up, squinting at the glowing numbers on the bedside clock. Two. In the morning. What the hell?

"Hey, Beckett…"

On the other end of the line there was a weak chuckle and her eyebrows drew closer together. "Castle! It's two in the morning! Why are you calling me?" She shut her eyes, the bite in her tone harsh in her ears. What if something was wrong? "Are you okay? Is Alexis okay?"

"Oh. Yeah. I'm- Alexis is fine. I'm good, Beckett. I just- I forgot about the time difference. I'll, um- I'll let you go."

"No." She shook her head. "I mean, I'm awake now. What did you- Why are you calling?"

"Uh- I was just…" She heard him sigh, the noise heavy through the cell, and she swallowed, reaching with her free hand to flip the bedside lamp on. "I was just wondering how you were."

"Oh." Beckett cleared her throat. "I'm- good."

"How are things at the precinct? Got any good cases?" He sounded a little melancholy, and she shrugged, trying to calculate the time difference between them. New York was behind London, but it must still be early there.

"Yeah… Wrapped one up late last night, so we're between cases right now. Hoping for a quiet one today, to be honest."

"Oh. So, I wouldn't be there anyway. I don't do paperwork." A note of smugness crept into his tone and she suppressed a smile.

"Yeah, some partner," she teased back, and he laughed on the other end. "Besides, I got it all done last night before I left."

"A late one then," he mused, and she hummed in agreement as he continued. "Besides, I helped you with the more important things!"

"Yeah, you did," she agreed, pausing for a beat before continuing. "Making coffee, and uh-" She faltered deliberately, waiting for him to swoop in with claims of assisting with something other than just keeping the homicide team caffeinated.

Instead he sighed once more, and she heard the note of wistfulness in his voice as he breathed, "coffee," almost reverentially.

"Coffee?" she asked. "You… what?"

"I miss coffee," he clarified.

"Well, it's morning there," she pointed out. "Go make yourself one, if you miss it so much." She brought her hand to her mouth, smothering a yawn.

"I can't," he said, and she rolled her eyes.

"What do you mean? They _have_ coffee in England."

"They do," he assured her. "But they- the place Alexis and I moved into was partially furnished, but there wasn't a coffee pot, and I figured, well, I'll drink tea, this is England, and I got a few coffees from this cafe when I needed to, and-"

His words rushed at her, and she laughed. "Moving abroad is no time to mess with your caffeine intake, Castle," she teased.

"Well I know that _now_! I ordered an espresso machine, and let's just say, life in London is looking up."

Beckett bit down on her lip to suppress the laughter that was threatening to bubble out. "Good night, Castle."

"Night, Beckett," he murmured. "Can I call you again?"

"During the day," she instructed, and he laughed.

"Deal."

She ended the call, sliding the phone back onto her nightstand and switching the lamp off. Burrowing under the covers, she nestled into the soft pillows, a smile on her face as she sank into sleep once again.

* * *

She hadn't hung up.

No, instead of not answering - or worse, picking up and then ending things with him then and there - Kate Beckett had taken his phone call. At two in the morning.

Castle made a face, grabbing his watch from the nightstand and pulling it over his hand onto his wrist. Oops. That had been one hell of an oversight. But in spite of his stupidity, she hadn't hung up!

Her voice had been sleepy and warm, and the bite to her tone had faded quickly, almost like she was… _pleased_ to hear from him. Plus, she'd told him he could call again, and he intended to make good on that instruction.

He grinned. Next time he would indeed check that it was a more reasonable hour; he had the app on his phone already, a duel clock that showed London and New York. He just needed to make sure to use it. He swung his legs over the side of the bed, smiling at the pale light that filtered through the ajar curtains, flinging them wide open and letting the sunshine flood in before bouncing up the hall to the kitchen.

He stopped short when he got to the counter - still no espresso machine - before shrugging and dismissing the idea. Coffee could wait, but writing couldn't. He flung the balcony door open, the rush of freezing air brutal but delicious against his skin. Right. He needed a robe, and socks, and pants. Gloves wouldn't hurt, either, even if they impeded the typing. Most of all, he needed his laptop.

He booted it up when he was ready, connecting the extension cord so that the low battery wouldn't die when confronted with the crisp chill. He huddled down on the balcony chair, its wooden slats hard against his ass, yet the smile that had plastered itself on his face wasn't going anywhere as he opened the file he'd started at the pub last night.

It might be freezing cold, he might be on the wrong side of the world, and he might have slept like crap, but today was a new day. For one thing, at some point the doorbell would ring and his espresso machine would be here. For another, this morning's effort at the computer might not be destined for publication, but letting his fingers dance across the keyboard felt amazing.

* * *

Beckett stretched out, relishing the moment before she had to get out of bed. The alarm was yet to sound and she extended her arms as far as she could, arching her spine, her eyes still half closed. Beside her, the clock hit seven-thirty and it buzzed, the flat tone an unwelcome intruder in the solace of the early morning. She blinked, reaching to silence the device before rolling over and pulling the covers up, cozy for another moment before wrinkling her nose and admitting defeat; it was time to start the day.

She padded across her bedroom into the adjoining bathroom. She wasn't exactly in a rush, but her morning routine was one of second nature in its brevity; she was in and out of the shower in under five minutes, dashing to the kitchen wrapped in only her towel.

The ends of her hair dripped water onto the counter as she heaped coffee grounds into the filter on her coffee pot, snorting as she turned it on, the switch glowing red as it came to life. What was Castle thinking, going without coffee for a month? He'd moved to a modern city, not an alternate reality from a Dickens novel, and she shook her head. The man needed coffee the way she needed coffee, and for every cup he'd bestowed upon her he had downed a second.

She ducked back into the bathroom to blow-dry her hair, sweeping a brush through it one last time when she was done and heading back into the bedroom where she opened her underwear drawer. She stared at her delicates with a furrowed brow, in the end selecting not the functional panties at the top, but instead, a sexy navy thong. Grinning a little as she slipped into it, she fastened her matching bra, appraising herself in the full-length mirror.

So what if no one was going to see her in it? It felt good to be wearing something not strictly practical, and she shrugged on a shirt and dress pants over the underwear.

She returned to the kitchen ready but for the day's coffee. She still had a few minutes, and this wasn't a hastily made pot. Unlike most of the coffee she made, its sole purpose wasn't to inject as much caffeine as quickly as possible into her system, she actually wanted to enjoy this one. Opening the pantry, she pulled out the vanilla syrup that had been languishing there, letting a generous amount of the sugary liquid coat the bottom of her travel cup, she before topped it up with coffee, and added a dash of creamer. She grabbed her apartment keys, locking the door behind her, and headed to the subway.

* * *

"Morning," Beckett called to the boys as she strode into the bullpen, taking the last sip of the coffee and placing the empty travel mug on her desk. "What have we got?"

"Montgomery's got us going over cold cases," Ryan groaned, wrinkling his nose, and Esposito nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. Better hope a body drops soon, or we'll die of boredom," he claimed, and she quirked her lips at them.

"Come on, it's not that bad," she disagreed, flicking her computer on and making her way to the break room while it booted up. The creak of the guys' chairs told her they were following her, and she flashed them a smile before turning her attention to the espresso machine.

"You okay, Beckett?" Ryan asked as she pressed coffee grounds into the portafilter and twisted it firmly into place.

"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?" She indicated to the machine. "You want one?"

"Uh- you're using that?"

"What else would I use?" Beckett followed Esposito's pointed gaze to the older coffee pot that predated Castle's gift.

"Oh." She shook her head. "Whatever, guys. I had a decent coffee on the subway on my way here, and I want a good one now, what's the big deal?"

"The big deal is-" Ryan shook his head frantically at Esposito, but his partner forged on, ignoring the clear warning. "You haven't used that machine since Castle left."

"So?"

Ryan shrugged, apparently he figured that the damage was done, and Kate almost laughed at the hesitance she saw written all over his face. "So- you've been kind of down lately. We just- Javi and I-" he indicated to his left where Espo stood, and Kate rolled her eyes, turning back to the machine and watching in satisfaction as the steady stream of espresso made its way into the waiting ceramic cup. "We were worried about you, is all."

"There's nothing to worry about," Beckett insisted, narrowing her eyes at the steamer. Could she do it? Not today, she decided, not with _those_ two in her business. She splashed some cold milk into the cup, sipping from it, her eyes half-closing in satisfaction before she snapped them back open to stare the guys down. "Nothing. I mean it."

"Okay. Then we're just glad you're in a good mood today," Esposito mumbled, and she raised her eyebrows at them as they backed out of the room in unison.

"I'm allowed to be in a good mood," Beckett called to their retreating forms.

She bent closer to her cup, the comforting scent making its way into her system, and she brought it to her mouth, its rich flavor delicious on her tongue. Never mind that her sleep had been interrupted by an unexpected phone call. In fact, maybe that was why she was so happy.

Not because it had been Castle - she cleared her throat at that thought - because _Castle_ had nothing to do with it. No, the point was it hadn't been dispatchon the line, and so she'd been able to go back to sleep, snuggle down under the covers until she'd enjoyed the rarity of a solid eight hours.

She lowered her voice in spite of the fact the guys were well out of earshot, having convinced herself that Castle had nothing to do with her good mood this morning. "I just… I slept really well last night."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you guys for the reading and reviewing, and to J &K for the beta! Mwah! x**


	4. Chapter 4

**January 2010**

Beckett cast an eye toward Ryan and Esposito, but each of them were lost in their own world. Esposito tossed his baseball from hand to hand as he stared at his screen, and Ryan was hunched over his own computer. She would have laid down money that his brow was furrowed, and she grinned.

Cold cases sucked.

That didn't mean they didn't suck you in.

She looked back at the paperwork on her desk, comparing it to the information she'd compiled. There was a hell of a lot more room for omissions and half-truths when a case was a decade old, but laying it all out as if it was a regular case never hurt, and the visual she got from a timeline on a white board was always helpful in piecing together the witness statements someone else had taken.

She sneaked another look at the boys before sliding her desk drawer open and pulling her cell from it. She launched a new browser window, bringing up a world clock with a quick google search, her lips quirking upwards in spite of her attempt to school her own features. She would have to figure out how to install a duel clock on- she shut that thought down before it could play out in its entirety; speaking to Castle last night had been an anomaly, it wasn't going to become a habit.

Meanwhile, as dedicated as she was to making sure it didn't become a habit, it would be kind of fun to include Castle on this one. It wasn't three in the morning there, so she wouldn't be returning _that_ favor, but what could it hurt, to message him? She had his number now, and noon in New York meant it was evening in London. If he could interrupt her while she was sleeping, she could sure as heck shoot off a message even if it disturbed his day.

 _Okay, so I_ _'ve got a body in the river, life jacket on. Single GSW to the head… 12 years ago. Got any theories?_

The message came back almost instantly.

 _Oh, I like it. Okay, I_ _'m in. You IDed him?_

 _Luckily. I wouldn_ _'t want to be running a cold case on a Jane Doe._

 _Life jacket, so she was on a boat_ _… witnesses?_

Beckett nodded, her thumb skimming the phone's keyboard as she filled in the details for Castle.

 _All so drunk that not a single statement corroborates. Plus, it was NYE_ _… so fireworks drowned out sounds of gunshots._

 _NYE_ _… romantic._

Her response was automatic, shutting down his distracting train of thought before he could get carried away. _Not for my Jane Doe._

 _Right. Of course not. Wait- a boat in the middle of winter? How is that a thing?_

 _You_ _'ve never cruised the Hudson on NYE? I would have thought you'd love that!_

 _I prefer parties on boats in the summer. My ideal NYE is a little more intimate._

Beckett flashed back to her own New Year's Eve a few days ago. She and Lanie had shared a bottle of wine at her place, lamenting their single lives and studiously avoiding any and all mention of the writer and the impact he'd had on Kate's life. It hadn't been anything special, and they'd called it quits not twenty minutes after midnight; being on call had put quite the dampener on both their plans. But an intimate New Year's Eve… That sounded good. Kate blushed. No. That didn't sound _good_ , it sounded… normal. Smart, even, to stay indoors and avoid the chill.

She sighed. January was here, and the bite of winter was deep in her veins. The usual mantras she repeated and the vigils that she held were doing little to keep the cold at bay. Everywhere she turned, the reminders of just how lonely she was - and how much she missed her mom - confronted her.

Sleep, too, had been an unfaithful companion. At least, that had been the case until last night, and as her phone buzzed again with another message from across the Atlantic she managed a small smile.

Who was she kidding? Reopening communication with Castle the night before - that conversation alone had been solely responsible for the good night's sleep she'd managed.

 _Really? This is the moment you tell me your ideal New Year_ _'s Eve?_ Even as she hit send she wondered at what exactly she was doing. Was that a retort, or was she… _flirting_ with him?

A retort.

Definitely a retort. After all, they were meant to be building theory together, working on a case, and besides, Castle was in London.

Castle was in London.

The smile fell from her face as reality hit, her stomach sinking over the situation.

Castle wasn't her partner anymore, and he wasn't across town in his loft. If she called him, he wouldn't catch a cab, he wouldn't meet her at a scene, and he wouldn't be arriving coffee in hand.

She had to do this alone.

 _Why, Detective_ _…_ His response was punctuated with a winking smiley face, and she swallowed.

 _I gotta go._ Beckett hit send before she could second-guess herself, shoving the phone back into the desk and shutting the drawer more firmly than strictly necessary, the bang causing Esposito to jerk his head up, a question in his eyes.

She shook her head at him, and he held her gaze a half-second longer, before nodding and returning his attention to the screen in front of him.

She'd worked alone before.

She could - and would - do it again.

* * *

Huh. Beckett's messages had just stopped. Had she gotten a body drop? And if so, why wouldn't she just tell him? After all, if they were going to exchange messages about a cold case, they might as well take on an active one.

Had they really been texting about the case, though? He glanced back at his phone, the exchange still on the screen.

 _Really? This is the moment you tell me your ideal New Year_ _'s Eve?_

"Dad!"

"Sorry, Alexis, what is it?"

"You're not listening to a word I've been saying!" his daughter exclaimed, and he winced. That was fair.

"Sorry. I was, uh-" He shot another look at his phone, its display dull. "Distracted. I was distracted. Sorry, go ahead."

"So Emma asked me to go away with her family this weekend, and can I go?"

He frowned. _This_ was a factor he hadn't taken into consideration in their hasty intercontinental move. He didn't know any of Alexis' friends, not really. He'd met Emma for five minutes this afternoon, a wispy girl with a big smile, but he didn't know her family, didn't know anything about her. Not the way he'd known Paige and her mom for the last decade. Years of volunteering in his daughter's elementary school classroom meant he was familiar with the quirks of her friends' families.

Emma - and more to the point, her parents - was an unknown quantity.

"I- I need to speak to Emma's mother, to check that it's okay," he countered, and Alexis grimaced, her expression showing concession to defeat. "Just to make sure," he added, and she nodded.

"I know. But, Dad? If this was a student exchange, you wouldn't have even met Emma!"

He reached across the table, and laid his hand over hers, managing a weak joke. "Are you trying to send me to an early grave?"

She laughed, dismissing his concerns. "The way you've gone through the Cadbury chocolate since Christmas? I don't think it's my social life that's going to send you to an early grave!"

"Hey!" He feigned mock indignation. "Alexis, we are in a _foreign_ country. It's our _duty_ to try as much candy and chocolate as possible."

"Uh-huh. You do know that they sell Cadbury in New York, right?" Alexis raised her eyebrows at him, and he chuckled.

"Well, it's different here," he defended, his eyes darting back to his cell, its screen still dim. Alexis sighed, snatching the phone and holding it in front of him.

"Seriously. What is going on, Dad? You've been jumpy all night. Are you okay? Are you-" her eyes narrowed. "Are you messaging a _woman_?"

"It's not like that," he protested. "I- it's not-"

"When did you even meet someone?" Alexis asked. "Is it someone from the secret service? Have you found someone to shadow? Did you-"

"Stop!" Castle reached out for the phone, glaring at Alexis as she smirked. "No. I did not meet anyone at the secret service." His lip curled at the memory of just how tedious the entire situation was. Whatever he managed to write about Bond would be fiction, that was for sure, because any hint of reality, and his readers would be asleep before the end of the first chapter.

"Then why are you so obsessed with checking your phone?"

"I'm not obsessed!" He stood and slid the cell into his back pocket, turning to the pantry. "Now. What do you want for dinner?"

"We could order in? Emma was telling me about an Indian place around the corner, and-"

"Well, if _Emma_ said, we'd better try it," he teased.

Alexis shrugged at him, pulling her own phone out, and bringing up a menu. "Looks good, right?"

"It does," he agreed. Maybe it was for the best that Alexis was so taken with Emma. After all, the last thing he needed was for her to fall in love with a boy and mope around when they returned home in the summer. "You want to call, and I can go pick it up?"

Alexis nodded, dialing and walking across the room as she made the order. He took the opportunity to slide his cell back out of his pocket. Maybe Beckett had messaged. Maybe he'd accidentally set the phone to silent, and-

"Dad! For real, who has you this wound up?" Alexis asked as she ended her call, and he shrugged, sinking back onto the chair.

"If you must know, I was messaging with Beckett."

Alexis' expression softened as she regarded him. "You've been talking to Beckett? But that's- that's great. I thought you two were-" She waved a hand in front of her. "Well, never mind." Her grin grew wider. "But… Beckett? _Really_? And you're on edge like that?"

"No! Alexis! It's not… anything." It wasn't. It was two friends texting casually. And casual was the right word for it; he hadn't heard from her for three hours. "We just- she was asking my advice on a case, and-"

"Oh!" Alexis beamed, apparently entirely thrilled with this development. "I know how much you've missed them, and now- you're long distance consulting? That's great!"

Alexis knew how much he missed them? He hadn't even admitted as much to himself until yesterday, so how could she possibly know? "I wouldn't call it consulting."

He wouldn't call it anything.

Not yet.

But he couldn't deny the buzz he'd felt as they'd exchanged messages earlier, not to mention just how good it had felt to hear her voice last night, the sleep infused note to her speech softening her usually snappy responses. He smiled at the memory, his eyes half closing as he pictured her in her bedroom. Had she flipped the light on, staying ensconced between the sheets? Had she been snuggled in warm winter pajamas or - his jaw dropped as he considered - did she actually sleep… in the nude?

"Dad!"

"Yes?" He jerked his head up, focusing on Alexis.

Way to kill the moment.

"I think it's time to go get the food?"

"Sure." He smiled at her, standing and picking up his wallet before grabbing his jacket from the hall closet. "Back in a minute."

"I think it's great you're talking to Beckett again," she called after him, and he nodded. Yeah. Assuming Beckett spoke to him again after today's messages, it would be great.

* * *

He managed to wait until after dinner to check his phone again, and Alexis, for her part, had avoided all mention of Beckett or New York for the duration of the meal. Dishes had been stacked in the dishwasher, and Alexis had disappeared into her bedroom, claiming she had to study.

The persistent chiming of her phone, chased by an upbeat ring tone told a different story, and as the tinkle of her laughter made its way through the thin walls, he grimaced. That did _not_ sound like she was talking to Emma, or to any _girl_ friend.

Castle carried his laptop through the apartment and sat down at the desk in the study nook off his bedroom. The cursor blinked at him and he stared at the blank page. James Bond was not Nikki Heat. Hell, James Bond wasn't even Derrick Storm.

Not for the first time the echo of his words to Paula played over in his head. _I'm trying to launch my own character, why would I want to get involved with someone else's?_ The allure of Bond - and the allure of chasing a childhood dream in London - was fading fast.

Bond might have been the reason he'd taken up writing, but it was first Storm, and later Nikki, who had opened in him genuine confidence in his own characters, both of them as real to him as anybody in his immediate life. Those two come alive on the page, overtaking his earlier books' characters, and he sighed.

Nikki wasn't meant to be done. Heat Wave was meant to be the first in a series, not a standalone. Nikki was no Rachel Lyons from _A Skull at Springtime_ , nor Adam Parel from _Hell Hath No Fury_. No, she had depth. She had a life of her own. She had longevity.

She had an author who loved her.

An author who _could_ _write_ her, he corrected himself.

She was fictional; he couldn't love her.

But he couldn't lie to himself either. He was anything but done with Nikki, and whether or not Black Pawn would publish another Heat novel had no bearing on his current reality.

He cleared his throat, coming to a decision and closing the current document, pulling up a new one and entitling it _Nikki II_.

The title would come, in time.

For now, he had a story dancing in his brain that begged to be bled out from his fingertips onto the keyboard.

* * *

Beckett opened the front door to her apartment, trudging in and kicking her shoes off. She pulled at her jacket as she headed through to her bedroom. Flinging it over the back of the chair, she let herself stop for the first time since they'd caught the case.

The slow start to the morning had taken an abrupt turn when they'd been called to a double homicide uptown after lunch, and she and the boys had spent the rest of the day running down evidence.

Her cold case white board had been pushed aside into an unused conference room as the current case took pride of place in the bull pen, identical faces of murdered twins Stephanie and Veronica Butler staring at them for the rest of the afternoon. Their leads had petered out, so with the promise of an early start, she'd dismissed the boys, following them from the precinct at six.

Even as she'd thrown herself into the case, the exchange she'd had with Castle niggled at her, and she'd itched to text him, and now that she had left work the impulse grew.

She'd ended their exchange without warning, she knew that, and she'd checked her phone a few times during the day hoping - wondering - if he would message again.

He hadn't, but she couldn't deny the ball was in her court.

She sighed again, the audible groan leaving her lips and filling the room for a second before she found herself in silence once again, and she took the phone from her pocket, tossing it onto her bed before shrugging off her shirt and pants and making her way into the bathroom. She twisted the faucet, dipping her hand into the flow of water to check it was hot enough before tipping bubble bath into the tub, tiptoeing across the tiles to light a couple of the candles that lined the shelves and windowsills.

A bath, mid-case, when she knew she'd be up at the crack of dawn wasn't her usual M.O. - she should have gone straight to sleep - but the luxury she was allowing herself brought a smile to her lips.

She threw a look at the tub - almost full - before padding back to her bedroom, the cold tiles giving way to the soft carpet. Biting down on her lip, she eyed the phone she'd so readily thrown onto her bed. She tore her gaze away from it, turning to go into the bathroom once more, but as she did so, she caught sight of herself in the mirror. She was still in the sexy underwear that she'd chosen so deliberately this morning.

With a soft huff and a shake of her head, she scooped the phone up, finally striding into the bathroom and shutting the taps off. She shed the underwear, stepping into the tub, her phone still in her hands, the metal warm against her flushed skin.

Beckett sank down in the water, her eyes closing as the heat enveloped her, inhaling deeply and then letting herself exhale slowly before opening her eyes again.

She set the phone on the stand beside the bath, bringing up her recent call list and selecting his name. He wouldn't have to know she was in the bath, but if he was still awake and took her call, perhaps - just perhaps - the sound of his voice after today's horrific case would bring her the same peace it had last night.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you guys! And all the hearts to Kylie and Jamie for their beta! x**


	5. Chapter 5

**January 2010**

Beckett shook the slush from her boots, kicking them off and wrinkling her nose at the scattering of melted snow all over her entrance hall. Stepping into the puddle outside her front door had been one more thing on the very long list of ways today had sucked.

The boots were probably ruined.

Later. She would deal with it later. But right now all she wanted to do was curl up on her sofa, tub of ice cream in hand, and binge watch _Temptation Lane_. Or maybe _Nebula 9_. She blew out an angry breath as the tears that had threatened all day finally made good on their promise and spilled down her cheeks.

She sniffed, pulling a tissue from her pocket and running it over her face. Walking through her apartment, she pulled her laptop from where she'd left it on her bed this morning. She carried it back into the living room, switching it on and rifling through her DVD collection while it booted up. _Hmm_. Temptation Lane might actually be a little much. Nebula 9 it was. She slid the disk into the drive, sinking onto the couch as it loaded, the menu lighting up the screen.

For the first time all day something akin to peace infused itself into her veins, the balm of the ritual soothing. The wound still festered, but as far as a band-aid solution went, the familiar characters on screen - Captain Max, Lieutenant Chloe - played their part.

As the first episode ended she hit play on the second, taking her blanket from its place atop the sofa and pulling it over herself, snuggling into the cushions. If she could just stay here for the rest of the night, and maybe tomorrow as well…

The familiar ring tone of her cell pulled her from _that_ fantasy, and for a split second she considered letting it go to voicemail. But she wasn't paid to ignore the phone, so she reached down to retrieve it from where it had fallen onto the sofa, biting down on her lip when she saw the caller ID.

Castle. They hadn't spoken since she'd phoned him from the bath the other day; she'd kept the conversation short when she'd realized he would be able to hear the slosh of water every time she moved.

Could she deal with him, today of all days?

Her fingers swept across the screen, accepting the call. "Beckett." Apparently she could, even if her brain couldn't quite keep up with her decisions.

"Hey, Beckett." His voice was like liquid on the other end; caramel or honey, sleepiness infusing his words, and she shook her head to clear the image because no, Castle was _not_ honey, or caramel, or any of those things her obviously warped mind was conjuring up. "Are you there?"

"I'm here," she said at last, her lips curving into a smile in spite of herself, because damn, _why_ did it suddenly feel so much cozier in here now she had Castle on the line?

"Good, I'm glad."

"What can I do for you?" she asked.

"Just-" he paused, and she frowned as a silence grew between them before he chuckled. "What are you doing?"

"I'm- nothing!"

"Well… what are you _watching_?"

"Nothing!" she said again, stabbing at the space bar on her laptop to pause Nebula 9 as her cheeks warmed. "I was just, uh-"

"Having a movie marathon?"

She smirked at his knowing words, shaking her head. "TV, if you _must_ know."

"Wanna watch together?"

"You-" Beckett frowned, dipping the laptop screen as if to stop Castle from seeing it. "You don't even know what I'm watching, and you probably don't have it."

"I have a huge collection of DVDs," he protested. "And most of them are here with me. We can totally watch together, just tell me what-"

" _Nebula 9_ ," she blurted out before she could stop herself. "I'm watching _Nebula 9_ , okay?"

The laughter that boomed into her ear was almost enough to make her hang up on him, but she swallowed the impulse.

"Shut. Up," she managed through gritted teeth.

"Sorry," he apologized, but she could still hear the grin in his voice. "It's just- and don't take this the wrong way, but _Nebula 9_ is terrible!"

"Well it's a good thing you're not watching with me, isn't it?"

"Do you have something better we can watch?"

"Castle! It must be nearly midnight there. Tell me you have something better to do - like sleep - than stay on the phone with me as we _watch_ an episode of television together."

"I..." The pause spoke volumes, and she swallowed. She'd had this sense from him before, in their other phone calls, that something was amiss. As if he were, perhaps, a little lonely. "No, I just- I know what today is, for you, Beckett. And so," Another silence hung between them before he cleared his throat and continued. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"Oh." She breathed out as everything fell into place. This call wasn't about him. No, this time he was actually worried about her. "And... and you called me?"

"Yeah, and so- are you? Okay?"

"I'm okay," she said, dabbing at her eyes and brushing away the welling tears. She could skip the details; there was no need to tell him about the visit she'd made to the cemetery. Nor did she want to talk about the coffee she'd had with her dad. The annual 'stare awkwardly at one another' was not a tradition she needed to relive until she and Jim dredged up old hurt and did it all over again next year. "I- you didn't need to call. I'm really fine. And you don't need to watch a movie with me, or a TV show that you hate."

"I know I don't have to," he huffed. "So, uh."

"Yes?"

"Have you eaten?"

"Castle, unless you've flown back to New York, you can't eat dinner with me. You know that, right?"

He chuckled. "Beckett. It's nearly midnight here. _I_ have already eaten. You on the other hand… tell me you've at least got plans for dinner?"

"Nope."

"Did you eat today?"

"Well…" She guessed coffee didn't count any more than the sandwich she'd pushed around her plate.

"So, what do you want? Chinese, right?"

Beckett didn't reply, silent as she listened to the tapping at a keyboard, and a triumphant "a-ha!" before he spoke again. "Chicken or beef?"

Really? Beckett closed her eyes, bringing her thumb up to her mouth and biting on the nail for a second before switching her cell to speaker, setting it down on the coffee table next to the laptop. Clearly Castle wasn't going to hang up any time soon, and if she was completely honest with herself there was a small - minuscule, really - part of her that was okay with that. A little bit. Even if this whole thing was a massive invasion of her privacy and her right to deal with the ninth of January in her own shitty way.

"Ka- ah, Beckett? Are you there?"

She rolled her eyes at the slip, because when did Castle ever call her Kate? "I'm here," she assured him. "Just trying to figure out what you're talking about."

"Keep up," he instructed. "You haven't eaten. I'm online and I'm ordering you dinner."

"Right." She blew out an exasperated breath, the hair that had fallen into her eyes momentarily out of her face before she gave in. "Chicken. And spring rolls. And rice."

The sound of a few mouse clicks reverberated through the phone. "Done. Fifteen to twenty minutes and they'll be there."

"Thanks," she said. "You do know that I'm capable of ordering my own dinner, right? Or, you know, I could have even cooked!"

The snort he offered in response resonated through her living room.

"So, anyway… what's going on at the precinct? Does everyone miss me? Oh! How's the espresso machine? Is Ryan cleaning it? I told him to make sure it gets cleaned properly, I don't think-"

"You really don't have to do this, you know."

"Do what?" he asked.

"Stay on the line. It's late there, and you need to sleep, and it was very… sweet of you to make sure I had dinner, but-"

"I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I didn't call out of some obligation, I called because, well, because I care about you, and, you're- Well. I'm not there anymore. And someone has to make sure you're okay."

She closed her eyes again, swiping at her cheeks and wiping away the moisture that was gathering. This was the side of Castle she'd always lov- She stopped herself. The side of Castle she'd always _liked_. The gentler aspect of his personality, rather than the larger than life image he liked to portray at the precinct. She'd been so intrigued by Castle as a father, a son, a friend, rather than the publicity loving playboy. The way he could behave so outlandishly one second, only to be chastened and humbled by his daughter the next was one of his more redeeming features.

His home, too, reflected that, and she found herself picturing him in the loft now. But no. He was across the Atlantic. Beyond the bare basics - telling her it was a two bedroom apartment and that his daughter was noisier than he'd ever realized - she knew nothing of its layout, its decor. That fact sat wrong all of a sudden, and she felt a rush of disorientation at the notion. Who was he over there?

"But if you don't want to talk on the phone, we could always skype," he continued, and she laughed, the sound coming out as more a strangled sob.

"Yeah, I think I'm kinda glad we're not on skype," she said. "I'm," she paused, unwilling to tell him she was crying, her eyes red and her face puffy. "I think this is better." She swallowed, a knock on the door interrupting them. "Hold on. I think my food's here."

She stood up, walking over to the door and opening it, tipping the delivery guy and returning to the sofa.

"Have you got a glass of wine?" Castle asked.

"Um… no. I mean, I didn't pour one yet."

"Get one," he suggested. "I'll do the same. That way neither of us are drinking alone."

"Uh-huh." She rolled her eyes, standing again and making her way into the kitchen, pouring a glass of red from the bottle she'd opened last night. "You're crazy, you know that?" she called out. "This phone call is going to cost you a fortune."

"Since you won't skype with me, it's a good thing I can afford it," he tossed back, and she raised her glass at the cell phone on the table.

"Uh-huh. Cheers."

She sank back onto the couch, taking a sip of the wine before setting it down and picking up the take-out.

"You don't have to stay on the line while I eat," she assured him. The idea of him hanging up now sent a pang of uncertainty through her, but she shook it off. This was ridiculous. He'd called, he'd made her laugh, and he'd ordered her dinner. She couldn't ask for more.

"Are you kidding? I haven't finished my wine yet, and I only really drink scotch alone. Well, usually. To be honest, I usually end up drinking wine with my mother, because if I don't she drinks it all by herself."

Kate grinned, bringing the chopsticks to her mouth, her eyes closing in pleasure at the taste. She didn't recognize the logo on the box, but she would be looking the place up and ordering from there again. "So who's supplying your mom's alcohol now you're gone?" she asked.

"I don't know. Actually, I don't _want_ to know, but I can tell you that I bought a case of wine the first week I was here and without mother on hand to go through it all, I've got ten bottles left. Well. Nine and a half."

She laughed again, reaching for her own glass. This was perfect. "I had no idea how hungry I was," she confessed. "But I'm starving. Tell me more about England while I eat?"

"Well," he started. "You know they call the subway the tube?"

* * *

The short, sharp rapping startled him, and he sat up, scrubbing at his face.

"Dad?" His daughter's voice was hesitant on the other side of the door, and he screwed up his face.

"Come in, honey," he said, his voice sounding like gravel to his own ears. Shit. What time was it? He reached over to the nightstand, unclipping his cell from its charger. Two hours into his conversation with Beckett he'd had to relocate from the living room to his bedroom because his battery was going flat. He blinked when he saw the time. It was only ten? So that meant he'd slept, what, six hours? Right?

"You okay?" Alexis asked as she rounded the entrance and plopped down into the chair at his desk on the other side of the room.

"Yeah, fine. Just... got to bed late." He frowned, still calculating. They'd hung up around eleven, Beckett's time, making it the wrong side of four am here. He shrugged, giving up on trying to figure it out.

"Who were you talking to?" she asked, nodding at the phone in his hand and he looked up at her, finding only curiosity in her eyes.

"Oh. You heard me last night? I didn't mean to wake you."

"I got up to get a glass of water around two."

"I was talking to Beckett, actually."

Alexis barely reacted. "Oh. Good. Tell her hi, next time. So anyway, I was thinking-"

He cleared his throat. His daughter had that familiar glint of resolution in her eyes. Whatever she was planning was as good as a done deal at this point.

"That since we're living in Europe, Dad, we need to make the most of it. You know, travel on the weekends."

He grinned. This he could deal with. "Where did you have in mind?"

Alexis' smile broadened, her entire face lighting up, and he beamed at her. "I have a map," she said. "In the living room. And I've put stars on the places I want to go to, and they're color coordinated, and I think we should probably start with France and go east from there. I have some lists of pros and cons, and obviously we need to consider the weather. Spain might be nice. Or Croatia. What do you think?"

What did he think? He thought she was going to name a city, they'd book tickets, and plan a weekend. He wasn't quite prepared for checklists or dot points. He cleared his throat. "I think I'm still waking up. Let me shower and get a coffee, then we can figure it out, okay?"

* * *

 **A/N: I love that so many of you seem to love this! Early seasons fic is like a drug! Thanks for the read through, Kylie and Jamie! x**


	6. Chapter 6

**February 2010**

A day off for Detective Kate Beckett usually meant catching up on chores, seeing her father, maybe even watching a movie. It rarely, if ever, meant wandering around downtown, laughing at the options that lay before her. At least, she'd started off laughing, but now the crowds were driving her crazy.

This was what Castle had reduced her to, a faux tourist rubbing shoulders with a combination of camera-laden folk and well-dressed business people. It didn't help her patience that all the tourists seemed intent on walking as slowly as possible, and as she squeezed past a crowd on the sidewalk she had to bite her tongue and refrain from tapping her shield and requesting they move the hell out of her way.

She reached her destination - _finally_ \- opening the front door and stepping in off Wall Street, asking herself again why she was so set on this. The drawl of the accents in front of her was a reminder that not everyone had grown up in fast paced New York and she shook her head as the group of - family? friends? - laughed and guffawed at the key chains and pointed out the t-shirts to one another.

What the hell had she been thinking, coming here?

She ducked down one of the aisles. The little plastic NYPD police cars were in front of her now - thank goodness they had them, because she didn't think she could stomach making her way into a store purporting to _heart_ NYC - and she rolled her eyes, selecting one. She marched over to the postcards, forcing herself to choose one without over-thinking it. The New York City skyline was a classic and really, how long did she want to spend in this part of town?

Making her way to the counter, she spotted one more thing, the sight of it bringing her to a stop as she bit down on her lip, considering.

Ridiculous.

But the whole thing was ridiculous. A lengthy diatribe from Castle last night about Reese's Pieces had warped into something stupid, so she snatched up the final offending object, dumping everything on the counter and handing over her credit card. A sign behind the counter offered discounts for NYPD employees, and she raised her eyebrows at it, declining to show her ID as the shop assistant wrapped the purchase up for her.

Beckett thanked the young man, taking the bag and exiting as quickly as she'd come, the damage done. Next stop, the post office, and she strode another block, reaching the building and scanning the shelves for the appropriately sized box.

Her phone chirped and she grinned as she opened the message.

 _Bonjour, Detective_ , the message read. _Alexis and I are on our way to the Louvre this afternoon. Talk later?_

She typed back, a smile on her face. _Have a great time_ _… Hope it's a beautiful day!_

Slipping the phone back into her pocket, she selected a box and made her way to a counter. She packed everything in, picking up the pen that was chained to the desk, printing his address in block letters.

The sharp current of regret that tore through her as she wrote _London_ was unexpected, and she dropped the pen, her fingers curling around the edge of the table as she stared at the word in front of her.

Why the _hell_ had he taken the Bond offer instead of staying and writing more Nikki?

The vehemence with which the sentiment stormed through her veins was shocking in its intensity, and she swallowed, trying to get her breathing back under control as she sorted through the emotions that were threatening to engulf her.

She wouldn't cry.

She _wouldn_ _'t_.

Her heart pounded in her chest and she frowned, trying to make sense of it.

They were friends. But they were _just_ friends, nothing more, and he had every right to take whatever book deal he wanted. He had every right to live in whichever country he chose, and he had the right to shadow whichever department or organization was stupid enough to put up with his crack theories.

At that thought, she bit back a grin. No doubt his MI6 contacts were less than welcoming whenever he offered up a CIA theory.

It was okay to miss him, she reminded herself, but the notion rang hollow. She shouldn't miss him because they talked more than ever. When she'd worked with him they'd almost never spent their personal time together, yet these days it seemed like every free moment was spent calling, or messaging.

So there was no reason to miss him.

This weekend, though, he was in Paris with his daughter, and would probably be off the grid for the most part. But all she had to do was get through the rest of today, and then tomorrow and Sunday, and by Monday she would be back at work, and he would be back in London. They would resume their daily phone calls and-

She clapped a hand to her forehead.

This was absurd. She reached for the pen again, pinching it between her fingers as she wrote _England_ below his address, carrying the package to the checkout to pay for its postage. With any luck he'd have it as soon as next week. In the meantime, she had a rare three-day weekend ahead of her, and the sun was shining.

Maybe she needed a change of scenery. Clear weather meant clear roads and an easy run up to the cabin. It had been a long time since she'd ridden her bike further than the precinct.

* * *

"Kate came here after she finished her semester abroad, for a weekend," he told Alexis, and her head bobbed, her attention still on the menu in front of her.

"Yeah? Do you know if she speaks French?"

Huh. Castle shrugged, frowning as he considered the fact he didn't know that. Probably. And if she did, well... The thought of Beckett speaking French was _hot_. Almost as hot as Russian Beckett. Or more so, perhaps. He grinned. After all, French kissing was a thing, and-

"Dad?"

He cleared his throat, shaking the images from his mind, because Beckett was his _friend_ , nothing more. "I, uh- I actually don't know."

"Really?" At that, Alexis looked up, surprise all over her face. "How can you not know?"

"Why would I?" He eyed his daughter. "I don't know everything about her."

Alexis let out a sound that sounded awfully like a snort of derision. "Right. You just talk to her _every_ day, but you don't know everything about her."

"I don't," he defended. 'I don't know everything about her, and I don't talk- what do you mean I talk to her every day?"

Alexis' eyebrows drew closer together as she stared at him. "Are you kidding?" she asked at last.

"I- Alexis, what do you mean? I don't talk to her every day."

"Text message then," she dismissed, turning to smile at the waiter as he approached. "Un café et un sandwich jambon fromage, s'il vous plait," she said in her best schoolgirl French. He grinned at her, their discussion about Beckett temporarily shelved as he took a moment to bask in Alexis' own language skills. He regretted nothing about the education Marlowe Prep was providing. "Dad?" she asked again, indicating to the waiter, and he nodded.

"The same, please," he said. "A coffee and uh- a sandwich."

The waiter departed, and Rick turned back to Alexis.

"I don't message her every day," he said, and she raised her eyebrows, her eyes wide and skeptical. "I don't!"

"Really? When was the last time you went a day without contacting her?"

"Oh, well…" He trailed off as he tried to figure it out. There had been that day last week - except, well, he'd sent her an email - and yesterday he'd been packing and she'd been slammed at work, so they'd only exchanged one or two quick messages, so it wasn't like they'd _really_ been in touch…

Okay.

He made a face at Alexis. Maybe she had a point.

"Mmm-hmm."

Alexis dropped her gaze from him, focusing on the coffee that had just been placed in front of her, and he did the same, welcoming the opportunity to avoid her knowing expression as he sipped the hot beverage. Beckett would love this. A coffee in France. Had she been as much of a caffeine fiend when she'd come here as a college student?

He huffed out a laugh, disguising it as a cough when Alexis glanced back up at him, reaching out for his baguette and taking a bite.

He wasn't thinking about Beckett. Or, if he was - because he _was_ thinking about Beckett, that was kind of clear - it didn't mean anything. It was innocent. He was preoccupied with her just because the chapter of Nikki that he'd been working on last night was almost ready to be considered a first draft and-

"Ow!" He bit down on his tongue instead of the cheese, swearing as he tasted blood.

Yeah. He wasn't meant to be writing Nikki. That tongue-biting thing… Probably the universe trying to kick his butt into gear so he would give Bond his undivided attention like he was supposed to.

"You okay?" Alexis shot him a sympathetic look, and he nodded, trying to refocus.

"Fine. Are you? I mean, are you having a good time? In Paris?"

"Of course. It's Paris. What's not to love?"

A shadow passed over her face and he gazed out of the window, giving her a moment. Pedestrians - marked as tourists by daypacks and sneakers - hurried by, racing to get out of the cold, and he smiled. This cafe had been a real find. After lunch they would have to brave the winter again and make their way to the Eiffel tower, but the lunchtime respite from the icy February day was a welcome interlude.

"I just keep thinking about how I came here with mom when I was a kid. And I know she didn't mean anything by it, but I remember being scared."

Alexis' unhappy words hung over them for a second before he reached out, cupping her face in his hand. "To be honest, that's one of the reasons that I wanted to come here," he admitted. "I know your chart system with its stars and ratings put Paris pretty far down the list, and I won't deny," he looked out at the street again, "that a weekend in sunny Spain had its attractions. But your mom got to bring you here, and I just wanted to have some father daughter time in Paris too."

He pulled his hand back, running it through his hair as he considered. At age four he'd lost Alexis in a department store when he'd been distracted trying on Fedoras. Until she was nine and Meredith had taken the liberty of pulling their daughter out of class for a lunch time excursion, he'd never been so scared, but the terror that had laced his veins when Alexis had failed to appear after school with her classmates was something he never wanted to repeat.

"Does that make sense, pumpkin?"

Alexis was gazing at him with a softness to her expression, and for a second it wasn't his teenage daughter before him, but his nine year old as he'd stroked her hair and sat with her until she fell asleep after Meredith had returned her to New York. "It makes sense," she whispered at last. "Thank you. For being… well, for being you."

He beamed at her, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Well, who else could I be?" he asked, and she laughed, nibbling on her sandwich. "So, I was thinking. You're not actually old enough to drink yet, but I might try a couple of wines later, see if I can't find a nice bottle of red to send Beckett. What do you think?"

"I'm sure she'll love it." If the roll of her eyes that accompanied her statement was anything to go by, Alexis was tired of hearing about Kate, and he brought his coffee to his lips, the heady aroma of his drink rich and delicious. "And, Dad?" she continued. "I'm know I said you were talking a lot, but I'm really okay with you and Detective Beckett, I swear."

"There's nothing to be okay with," he reminded her. "Because there's nothing going on."

"Sure." Alexis hid a smile. "But you know, next time you want a weekend away from London? Maybe I'll go to Spain with Emma and her family in March, and you can just invite Beckett along wherever you go. That way you can talk to her in person instead of just talking about her, and checking your phone every ten minutes."

"There's nothing going on!" he said again, tapping his fingers against his jeans and resisting the urge to pull his cell from his back pocket because he did _not_ need to check it. "Wait. What? You're going to Spain with Emma?"

"Her family invited me. I told them I had to speak to you first." Alexis pushed her plate aside, draining her coffee and shot a look out the window. The weather hadn't improved - if anything it had become worse, gusts of sleet blanketing unlucky pedestrians - and she wrinkled her nose. "You want to go out in that?"

"Maybe later? I mean, we could have another coffee? And I need to meet Emma's family properly first, before you go anywhere with them."

Alexis nodded, pulling her purse from where it was hooked around the back of her chair. "Sure. While we're here we could write postcards?" She extracted the cards she'd purchased this morning, handing him a few and keeping some for herself.

He took the pen she offered, choosing the image of the Eiffel Tower illuminated against the night sky, bringing the Biro to it. Alexis would no doubt laugh, but if he was going to send Beckett a bottle of wine the least he could do was write a note in the form of a postcard to accompany it.

* * *

 **Thank you guys. I do like to reply individually, but sitting hurts so I am minimizing my time spent at my desk. But I appreciate your reviews like nothing else. :D xox**


	7. Chapter 7

**February 2010**

The screen saver bounced around on his laptop and Rick stared at it, leaning back in his chair and flexing his fingers. Designed to make him feel guilty, the _you should be writing_ mantra wasn't going to mock him today, not the least because he _had_ been writing.

Tens of pages since he awoke at six this morning, and if it wasn't time for a coffee now, well- it was time. Past time.

He pushed back against the desk, standing and drumming his fingertips against it before striding through the hall and into the kitchen, switching on the espresso machine and pulling a double shot.

He watched in satisfaction as the liquid made its way into his cup and, splashing some milk in once it was done, he brought it to his lips. What had he been thinking, trying to exist on tea just because he was in England? He'd been setting himself up for failure, he admitted to himself, his eyes closing as he tasted the rich coffee on his tongue.

A chime interrupted his reverie and he put the cup down, frowning and making his way to the front door. Alexis had a key, and he wasn't expecting anyone else. He opened the door to find a mailman there, package held aloft toward Castle as the man requested he sign for it.

"I wasn't expecting anything," he told him, and the man grunted in response, indicating with a dip of his head for Castle to take the box.

He carried it inside, his grin stretching across his face as he recognized the handwriting scrawled across the top. He cleared his throat, trying to fight the smile, the sheer joy that was welling up in him before laughing, a quiet chuckle. No one was here to see him dashing into his kitchen like an idiot just because he had a package fromKate, so why shouldn't he enjoy the moment?

Beckett had sent him a present. The possibilities were endless and he beamed at the box, running a fingertip over her neatly printed name in the top corner. What would he find? He frowned, realizing he had no idea; none of their conversations since he and Alexis had returned from Paris had contained any clues about a mystery gift, let alone any indication of its contents.

His patience wearing thin, he reached again for his cup of coffee, gulping down the last of it, before grabbing the kitchen scissors from the drawer, and sliding a blade between the cardboard and the tape.

Open at last, he pried the two sides apart, blinking at the contents that were nestled in bubble wrap.

Reese's Pieces. At Alexis' instruction he knew, now, where he could buy them here in London, but that wasn't the point. Kate had obviously been listening, in spite of laughing at him when he'd ranted about how much he missed American candy last week.

Below the chocolate was a little police car. He pulled it from the box, driving it along the counter and chuckling. Hours of distraction in that one. The last object was a mug. Cradling it carefully in his hands, he examined it. An NYPD mug. That was perfect. He threw a glance in the direction of his espresso machine. So what if he'd just finished a coffee? It was time for another one.

He rinsed his gift, picturing the mismatched collection in the break room at the precinct. Kate always seemed to favor the heavy blue mug but he'd always chosen one emblazoned with the NYPD logo. He'd told her it was because he loved playing cop, but it was more than that, had been from the very beginning.

It was pride.

Different to his interactions with Sophia at the CIA - and _really_ different to his interactions with his contacts at MI6 - he'd been part of a team that made a difference in people's lives.

It didn't hurt that Katherine Beckett was the most fascinating woman he'd ever met, and if he was going to be entirely honest with himself, it didn't hurt that she was hot. When it came down to it though, their connection was undeniable. As much as she liked to tell him that she'd been catching killers just fine without him, he knew he was a vital part of the team.

So why had he been so quick to tear it all down when Paula had come to him with the offer of Bond? He shook his head as he made the second espresso, the smile gone from his face as the coffee filtered into the NYPD mug. He'd been foolish, that much was certain. A few hot-headed words on his part and Beckett's - she wasn't blameless - and it was his second marriage all over again. The impulse to run before he could be held accountable, combined with a deep seated fear that he really wasn't necessary to the team at the Twelfth had brought it all crashing down, leading him… here. To London. England.

He shook his head, taking the coffee from the machine and gazing again at the logo on the mug.

But all wasn't lost.

He was writing more than ever, and he was reconnecting with Beckett. He and Alexis would see out the semester here, he'd finish up his Bond obligations, and they'd go back home, where they belonged.

Still, the nagging fear buzzed in the back of his mind. Could he and Beckett really recreate what they'd had? Phone calls and messages, emails and care packages were one thing, but what happened when they were both in New York again? How would that even work?

He sighed, rocking the NYPD car back and forth with his free hand before letting it shoot away from him. It crashed into the box, falling to the floor and taking the package with it, and he set his coffee onto the counter, retrieving the candy and the bubble wrap that had fallen, pausing as something else poked its way out, landing face up on the floor.

A postcard, the night skyline of the world's greatest city confronted him and he reached for it, his hand shaking as he picked it up and turned it over.

 _For your coffee until you get back to the Twelfth. -KB_

Until he got back.

He grinned. He was going back to the precinct.

* * *

"Please tell me you've wrapped up all your paperwork?" Lanie's voice was a moan on the other end of her desk phone, and Kate bit back a laugh as she replied.

"I have." She grinned, closing each of the programs on her desktop and shutting the machine down. The stack of manila folders beside her were ready to go to records. All in all, it had been a productive day. A boring case devoid of any interesting features had been all the slower without Castle there throwing around his wild theories. At least it had been an easy solve, and one more family was going to bed with answers tonight, so there was that.

"I'm dying to get out of here too," Lanie continued. "Are you free for a drink if I meet you in half an hour?"

"What about your Jane Doe?" she asked, trying not to frown. It had been disappointing to be assigned Perlmutter today, but her visit to the morgue meant she knew what - who - Lanie was working on, even if no one knew _who_ she actually was.

"She'll keep until the morning," Lanie grumbled. "I've got COD, just need an ID."

"Oh. Well, good." Beckett pursed her lips, casting her gaze across the bullpen. At their own desks, Ryan and Esposito were deep in conversation, apparently unaware that the clock had hit five and that the closed case meant they were free to go.

Snatches of their discussion drifted across the room. "You ask!" Ryan said, only to be met with a scoff of derision from Esposito.

"I ain't touching it!" came Espo's retort, and she shrugged, turning her attention back to Lanie.

"So do you want to meet up, Kate? That new place around the corner from your apartment, maybe?"

"Oh, um." She brought her thumb to her mouth, gnawing on the nail as she considered. "I have… plans. Sorry."

"Plans? Spill, girl," Lanie demanded.

She shook her head, her hair falling across her face as she dipped her head and lowered her voice. "There's nothing to tell. I just have… something to do."

"Something, or someone?" The accusation was enough to make her roll her eyes.

"Lanie! It's not like that." From the other side of the bullpen Beckett noted the moment that Esposito and Ryan jerked their heads up, their eyes on her.

"Then what's it like?"

"I have a… phone call. I told someone I would call… _them_ after I was done with work tonight." She tried to remain gender neutral, but the snort on the other end of the line told her she wasn't fooling her friend.

"Well, tell some _one_ that you'll call him after you have a drink with me."

"Well," she hedged. The idea of confessing - not that she had anything to confess or feel guilty about - was appealing. "I can't just call at all hours, you know."

"Oh yeah?" The mirth in Lanie's voice raised her suspicions, and she shot another look at the guys. Both were suddenly very focused on paperwork, but even from a few desks away Beckett could tell that whatever Ryan was purporting to look at was upside down. "This wouldn't have anything to do with a certain mystery writer in a different time zone, would it?"

"Lanie!" she hissed. "How did- no!"

"Please, Beckett. I know you. And I know you like to stay connected, but you don't need to be a detective to have noticed that you and your phone are joined at the hip these days."

"I'm not- how did you know it was _Castle_?" she demanded, keeping her voice low.

"Jav- Detective Esposito may have mentioned something." Kate rolled her eyes. Well, that little _Javi_ slip answered that question. It was clearer now, what the two of them were gossiping about at their desks. She cursed letting Esposito see the caller ID when Castle had phoned earlier this week.

"Right. Well, yes, it's true. I have been speaking to Castle _occasionally_ , and yes, I told him I would call him tonight. But it's nothing, it's just two friends. It's like… he's consulting by phone."

"Uh-huh. Consulting on a closed case?"

"Well. Not exactly. But you know, he's writing Bond now, and-"

"Save me your excuses," Lanie said.

"It's not like you tell me all about your secret relationship," she countered, doing her best to fight the unfounded accusations with fire. But Lanie just laughed.

"So you admit it's a secret relationship?"

Crap. No. She didn't need to admit anything of the sort, because it wasn't a relationship, secret or otherwise.

"Face it, Kate," Lanie said. "There's been something between you and Castle since the day the two of you met, and now you're in a long distance relationship with the guy."

* * *

"Hey," Alexis called out as he made his way through the front door. "How was your day?"

"Good," he told her, pleased that this was an honest report. Now that he knew in his heart that this was just temporary it made the days go a little faster, and made the mundane conversations he was having over at MI6 a little more palatable. Just a few more months of this and he could go back to his loft in SoHo and his life in New York.

"Have you been shadowing your spy again?"

He wrinkled his nose, setting his laptop down on the counter and taking a seat beside his daughter. "You're making it sound much more exciting than it is," he informed her. "And no. I went in to headquarters, was bored in under ten minutes, and I've been at the pub writing for the last three hours."

The pub, at least, had turned out exactly the way he would have hoped. Reminiscent of the Old Haunt, in which he'd whiled away many an hour before Alexis was born - writing, playing darts, drinking - the traditional English pub down the block from his apartment was everything he'd ever wanted in a bar. Although he supposed here it was just a pub, and that the adjectives _traditional_ and _English_ were redundant. The place was perfect though. Dark enough to have atmosphere, but not too dingy to pump out chapter after chapter. Crowded enough to have character, but not so busy the barman resented him for nursing a single pint for hours on end.

"So the book is going well?"

"Yeah, it really is." Again, it felt good to be giving an honest reply, rather than a doctored version of the true events. This was what _Nikki Heat_ had brought him, he realized. Months, years even, of writing _Derrick Storm_ , the words had coming slowly and painfully - had killed in him the desire to be the best. It was a switched had been flipped; the _need_ to write was once again his constant companion.

Until now, he'd never really understood how Patterson knocked out more than a book a year, but the rush of writing Bond while simultaneously writing the second Nikki Heat had sparked something within him. For every chapter that he finished and sent on to his publisher he allowed himself to get lost in Nikki for a few hours, and it had become a race to make each of the chapters of both books as good as possible; the less notes his editor had for him the more time he had for _Naked Heat_.

He grinned. Beckett was going to kill him when she found out the title of the next novel.

"Dad?"

"Sorry, sweetie. I got distracted. Lost in the books, I guess."

"Books?" Alexis narrowed her eyes at him, and he swallowed. So much for an honest conversation. Until now, he'd omitted telling anyone about his personal writing project.

"I, uh- I _might_ have found myself writing a little bit more Nikki. Just, you know, for fun."

"How much is a little bit?" Alexis' expression screamed _skeptical_ , and he chuckled.

"Just… a few chapters, that's all. But don't worry. Bond is going well. I'm not neglecting that."

"I hope not," she said, her brows furrowed as she launched into chastising mode. "Remember, you signed a contract, and you have to-"

"Alexis," he cut her off. "It's fine, really. I'm making the deadlines. You don't need to worry."

She ducked her head. "Sorry."

He reached out, cupping her face in his hand and pressing a kiss into her hair before standing. "No problem, sweetie. Now, what do you want for dinner?"

"Burgers."

The answer was so definitive that he laughed, pleased that the decision had been made and they weren't going to hum and haw for a half hour before deciding on something. "Done."

"You know what I was thinking, Dad?"

"Mmmhmm?" He looked up, surprised to see the concern back on her face as she bit her nail.

"Are you happy here? Because I am, but I know that I'm gone a lot, with Emma and the others from my class. And I was just… worried about you."

"You don't need to worry," he assured her. "I'm fine."

"Sometimes you just seem so… quiet," she continued, and he shrugged.

"I'm not sure that's a bad thing," he said. "You should be pleased that I haven't been arrested since we've been here."

"Right," she agreed. "And, well, I know you and Detective Beckett have been talking a lot, and you keep saying there's nothing going on, but you're not dating either, and so maybe you should? It's nearly Valentine's Day, and-"

"There's nothing going on," he interrupted her. "Not with Beckett and me." _Lie_ , his mind supplied. But if there _was_ something going on it didn't count, because he couldn't define it, had no idea what it was. "But I don't want to date." _I don_ _'t want to date anyone but Beckett_. The sentence completed itself in his head without his permission. "I don't want to date," he said again. He needed to get Beckett out of his head. "I just want to concentrate on writing. Get Bond done."

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Castle's gaze caught the NYPD mug, pride of place on the counter and he swallowed. Another few hours and Beckett would be wrapping up for the day. She'd promised to skype him when she got home; by then, Alexis would be in bed and he would be able to keep their conversation to himself.

"I'm fine, Alexis, really." He grinned at her, hoping the smile reached his eyes as he lied again. He couldn't figure it out, so it was almost true, right? "And there's nothing going on with Beckett and me."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you guys for your sweet words! x And of course all the credit to Kylie and Jamie for catching my typos and Australianisms and convoluted sentences that need to be kicked to the curb! x**


	8. Chapter 8

**March 2010**

Time had disappeared, along with the snow, and Kate Beckett, for one, was glad that spring was showing its face. The days were a little easier to handle as they got a little longer. Leaving the precinct when it was still light out made even the toughest cases more manageable and the warmer weather meant she could forgo her heavier jackets most days. The lighter leather ones were much more conducive to riding to and from the precinct on her bike, and it didn't hurt that she knew _exactly_ how much Castle liked her in them either.

Not that he'd seen her 'in person' recently, of course, and nor would he, not for a while now, but if she'd happened to skype with him while she was wearing her red jacket, and she'd happened to get a certain… _reaction_ , well, there was nothing she could do about that.

She grinned to herself as she slid onto her bike. Closing a case and taking off at five was pure bliss, and she wanted to talk to him while he was still up. She rolled her eyes at her own sappiness as she pulled her helmet over her head, ignoring the admiring looks she was getting from two of the robbery detectives. She sure didn't need them; it wasn't a relationship, she assured herself for the hundredth time, but her constant texting with Castle today had included a selfie he'd sent outside Windsor Castle with the caption: Castle at a Castle. There was no denying it; the man made her laugh.

"Looking good," one of them called over when he noticed that she'd made him and she just shook her head.

"In your dreams, Stevens," she countered, urging the bike out of the parking lot behind the precinct and onto the street. The low evening sun cast warm shadows on the road and her smile only grew as she threaded her way through traffic to the East Village.

Maybe it wasn't just the emergence of spring that had her in such a good mood these days.

No, it was twenty percent spring, and eighty percent… Castle.

She glided through a green, pulling up in front of her building and securing the bike before taking the stairs two at a time, opening her apartment door and placing her helmet on the table at the entrance.

Kate kicked her shoes off, breathing out a sigh of relief as she padded barefooted across the small space, edging the kitchen windows open a little to let some air in. Her computer lay on the table where she'd left it this morning, and she opened the lid, pressing the power button to bring it back to life. Carrying it over to the counter, she plugged the electrical cord in so she wouldn't be caught unawares by a dead battery again, and then logged in to Skype, grinning at the green tick next to Castle's name.

The ring tone sounded, and she adjusted the angle of the screen so Castle would have the full view of the room. She wanted to talk to him, but she wanted to eat too, and this way she could do both.

"Hey, Beckett."

She smiled, the familiar face a welcome sight. "Hey, Castle. You all tucked up in bed already?"

"It's not early for everyone," he protested, shifting his own computer so she could see that he was, indeed, in bed. She bit her lip at the view. She couldn't be sure whether or not he was doing it on purpose, but the end result was the same; the man had nice arms. Good arms. Those were some pretty damn awesome arms to have, and not for the first time since they'd been Skyping she had to wonder why he'd been so buttoned up at the precinct.

She might have been friendlier toward him if she'd known he had arms like that a little earlier on in their working relationship.

"Drinking coffee to stay awake?" she asked and he frowned before figuring out what she meant, holding up his NYPD mug and waving it in her direction.

"I made it Irish," he said, and she laughed.

"I'm going to stick with wine," she told him, reaching for the bottle of red on her counter, and pouring it into a glass. "How was your day?"

"I wrote some more," he said, and she nodded, half-listening while she filled a pot with water from the faucet and put it on the stovetop. "I have a lot for Bond, and actually…"

He trailed off, and she shifted to get the spaghetti from the pantry, using the opportunity to hide her face. It shouldn't still sting, but somehow the closer they became, the worse it was.

He should have been in New York with her, writing Nikki.

She swallowed, twisting back around and smiling at him, the expression feeling hollow on her face. It wasn't such a bad thing he'd gone. If he were here they would have been in the exact same holding pattern they'd been chained to for the last year. Case after case, never moving forward-

But had they really moved forward?

They spoke every day, it was true, but that was it. They hadn't had the chance to find out if there was anything more there. For her part, Kate had turned down a date with a friend of Lanie's just last week, but for all she knew, Castle was dating in London.

And he had every right to do so.

"Beckett? Are you okay?"

Oh. She'd been silent a beat too long. "I'm fine, Castle. Just tired. Long week, you know?"

It was a white lie, because until now she'd had a spring in her step, but she was overwhelmed, suddenly, by the reality of their situation.

This wasn't a relationship.

"You need a vacation," Castle sympathized, and she managed a slight upturn of her lips. He was trying, and she was tuning out.

She nodded, taking a sip of her wine, and leaning back against the kitchen table, she faced the camera. "I have a long weekend coming up, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah." She swallowed another mouthful of the rich syrah, enjoying the buzz as it flowed into her veins. She needed to relax, and she finally had the chance to do so. This vacation was long overdue. "I was owed a couple of days, so next weekend I'm going to take them."

"Do you have plans?" His eyes lit up, and she laughed.

"Yeah… but you might not like them."

"How could I not?" he asked.

She stood, placing the spaghetti into the boiling water. "There's no WiFi up at my dad's cabin," she said. "No internet at all, actually. There's a landline, but the cell phone signal is pretty hit and miss."

"That's your plan?" His face fell as she stirred the pasta.

"What's wrong with that? Upstate New York is gorgeous in the spring," she protested, and he shrugged.

"I know. But you could go up there any time. How many days did you say you have?"

"Five," she said. "I'm taking Wednesday through Friday as vacation days. Back at work on Monday."

"Hmm." He yawned, and she shook her head at him.

"You should go to bed."

"No, I'm not sleepy," he said, holding his cup aloft again. "See? Coffee."

"Uh-huh."

"Besides, I barely notice the time anymore. I don't feel particularly committed to this time zone."

"Clearly." She raised her eyebrows at him before crossing the kitchen to her fridge, rustling around in it until she found some pasta sauce behind a couple of old take out containers. She sighed. Maybe instead of going to the cabin for the whole five days she should make use of a little extra time in the city. She could get her kitchen - her life - in order, take care of the tasks that had been building up. Between work, and speaking to Castle most days, she just didn't have the time she used to.

Not, she had to admit to herself, that she'd ever invested a lot of time in cooking before this unconventional… _friendship_ with Castle had overtaken her life.

"You okay?" he asked again when she turned back in view of the camera, and she shrugged.

"I think I'm going to get an early night." She needed to get her head out of this funk, and staring at his face an ocean away was not making anything clearer.

A look she couldn't quite place crossed his face. Despondence? Regret? "Enjoy your dinner," he said, and she nodded.

"Thanks. I'll, uh, talk to you tomorrow."

His face left her screen as he signed off, and she sighed, closing the computer and moving back to concentrate on the spaghetti. What had just happened? She'd been so excited about getting home, talking to Castle as she cooked, and then-

Then _what_ , Kate? She had the answer ready, as uncomfortable as it made her. Lanie was right. Lanie had been right for months now, when it came down to it.

She wanted more.

She didn't want to be Skyping with an ocean and a six hour time difference between them. No, she wanted to be coming home from a day at the precinct and opening a bottle of wine with Castle there to share it. She wanted to put the pasta on to cook as they made a sauce from scratch, rather than pouring a sauce of dubious 'best before date' over the spaghetti she was now going to eat alone.

Instead of a non-defined pseudo long distance relationship, she wanted to be with Castle.

* * *

Castle brought his hand to his head, not sure what had just happened. How had things gone so wrong? One second they'd been talking, and he'd been on the cusp of admitting that he was going to send Gina a draft of Naked Heat. He'd had it all planned. Tease Kate with the promise of a chapter to read… But the next second, she'd zoned out.

Maybe she really was just tired.

He rolled his shoulders, not sleepy anymore, and, standing, he made his way out to the kitchen, tipping the rest of the coffee into the sink. Getting himself a glass of water instead. If he wasn't going to sleep he could try his hand at writing again, but the idea of going back into his bedroom and grabbing his laptop stung.

He needed to work on Bond, but his heart lay with Nikki, and frankly, he was sick and tired of serving two masters.

That left two choices. Gaming, or watching something. He glanced in the direction of Alexis' room; he'd need to use headphones regardless, but before he could make a decision, his phone chimed on the counter, and he jerked his head up toward the sound.

He unplugged it from the cord, happy to see it was fully charged, and slid his finger across the screen to read the message.

 _Sorry, Castle. I don_ _'t know what's wrong with me. Guess I need that break. K._

The effect was immediate, and he straightened, the tension releasing from his shoulders at the sign she was still talking to him, that they were okay.

 _Don_ _'t worry about it._

His first message was simple, but he was already typing out the second, his thumbs racing across the keyboard.

 _New York State is beautiful_ _… but let's play a game. Tell me where you dream of going, if you could go anywhere?_

The response was no doubt partnered with an eye roll and he grinned as he read the words.

 _I like New York. And I like my dad_ _'s cabin._

 _Humor me_ , he responded.

 _Canada?_

 _Come on, Beckett. Where_ _'s your sense of adventure? You went to Kiev your semester abroad, right?_

There was a long minute before she answered, and he imagined her, sitting at her kitchen table, glass of wine in front of her, as she gave in.

 _Fine. If you must know I have always dreamed of going to Prague._

Prague, huh?

Castle wandered into the living room, switching the lamp on and looking up at the map Alexis had hung on the wall. Paris was marked with a blue star now, as were Copenhagen and Berlin. Barcelona had a red star on it, to mark the fact Alexis had gone there with her friend's family without him.

What color would Alexis stick against Prague, when he went there with Beckett?

He reached out, running his finger over the name. It couldn't be more than an hour or two's flight from London, and that made it, what, ten hours from New York? Twelve? Totally do-able in first class.

His phone chimed again, the sound startling him. Shit. He had to respond. And it was Wednesday now, so he had a week to get everything organized. Flights, hotels, tours.

He ignored her next message - _did you fall asleep?_ \- scrambling to get his thoughts together as he dashed back into his bedroom, pulling up a new browser window before replying.

 _You have a passport, right?_

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks readers! And especially for your note MirandaJayne ;) Thanks betas! Mwah! x**


	9. Chapter 9

**April 2010**

Kate bit down on her lip as she stepped off the plane, her eyes darting around the space as she looked for anything familiar: Words in English directing her to baggage claim, customs, or better still, a familiar face.

Castle.

What had she done, allowing him to buy her a plane ticket - a first class plane ticket at that - and fly her to Prague for a long weekend in April?

"It'll be awesome!" he'd said, trying to convince her. "And the ticket is non-refundable. So you have to come. Or, you don't have to, but you might as well, since I got you the ticket."

"But I was going to go to the cabin," she protested, and he'd scoffed.

"We'll go to the cabin together in summer," he'd declared, as though it was already a done deal, and she'd go along with him.

She couldn't help but admire his conviction.

"What am I going to tell the boys?" she'd argued back, and he laughed.

"The truth?"

"And what's that?"

"You miss me." His voice had been smug, and she'd narrowed her eyes as she'd stared him down through the computer screen. But Skype had flickered, and whatever effect she'd hoped her glare would have was lost.

"I think you miss me," she'd countered.

He'd been silent for a second before admitting, "Guilty as charged."

She'd swallowed at the candor in his voice, averting her eyes and nodding.

And now, here she was, surprisingly refreshed after sleeping her way across the ocean. The flight attendant had needed to rouse her when they'd arrived in Heathrow for their layover, and she'd dozed on the second leg of the flight.

Kate took a deep breath, letting the air fill her lungs before stepping forward, falling into stride with the crowd as it surged forward, toward Customs.

* * *

"Beckett!"

She whirled around at the sound of the familiar voice, its cadence so very welcome as she waited at baggage claim.

"Castle!" She broke into a grin as he strode toward her, his step faltering as he reached her. She, too, froze, because what now? Did they hug? They'd never really touched before, but now he was in front of her and… _crap_. She was at a loss.

He beamed at her, though, his smile awkward, and she exhaled, letting herself relax as she took him in. Clenched fists, a too-wide smile, his stance askew. He was nervous too. She ran the palms of her hands over her jeans, cursing the sudden nerves, until he laughed, shook his head and embraced her. She returned the hug, allowing herself to wrap her arms back around him. Her heartbeat evened itself out - still racing though - as he continued to hold her, and she inhaled, his scent filling her deep within.

"Hi," he murmured, his mouth in her hair, his voice just a whisper, and she closed her eyes, sinking into him.

She straightened at last, pulling away and biting her lip as she looked up at him. Had he always been so tall? No, she just had a penchant for high heels, but today she'd traveled in flats, an overnight flight not the place for stilettos.

"How was your flight?" he asked as she spoke at the same time.

"What time did your flight get in?"

"You first," he said, and she nodded.

"I didn't need first class," she started. "But… thank you. I slept like a baby."

He grinned. "Couldn't let you fly in cattle class," he said. "And I've been here an hour or so?" He indicated the luggage behind him.

"Well, good timing… for me," she smirked, stepping forward as her bag made its way around the carousel, and pulling it toward her.

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, eying the small case, and she shrugged, looking again at his.

"What can I say, Castle? I travel light."

He laughed, grabbing his own suitcase and pointing across the baggage claim hall. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

The cab ride from the airport had been a whir of color and sights unfamiliar, and their driver had tried out his English as he'd pointed to the castle across the river. The car had wobbled along the cobbled streets, and Beckett had been unable to repress the smile that was fighting to burst free. Even in the back of the taxi the feeling of home washed over her, and she stared, wide-eyed, at the famous dancing building, the trams that trundled by, and the awe inspiring architecture that surrounded them.

It was nothing like Kiev, but it was also nothing like New York City, and an _Eastern European_ vibe emanated through her. Little Odessa had nothing on this.

Standing outside their hotel room though, she was nervous again. What was she doing? What were _they_ doing?

Castle swiped the keycard, his brow furrowing as the light remained red, trying it again with a crooked smile. This time the light illuminated green as the lock clicked, and he held the door open for her, letting her precede him into the room.

The room. This was the part where it all became real, but behind her, Castle was babbling, and she blinked, forcing herself to listen.

"I didn't- I mean, I know, no, I don't know. What- well, I-"

"Spit it out, Castle," she said, her voice surprisingly steady as she took in the room.

"I got us a suite," he said, at last managing a full sentence. "I didn't want to… assume anything. So, I got us a suite. He pointed at the doors on either side of the living room. "See? One room each, unless you- so we can take it slow," he finished.

Slow. Kate nodded. "Slow is good," she said, even as her pulse sped up. Slow _was_ good. But, god, they'd been on the phone to one another for the last four months, and fast was good too. Shit. She was at a loss, and Castle stood in the doorway still. "Are you gonna…" she nodded at him, "close that?"

"Right. Right."

He shuffled in, the door clicking closed, and she bit down on her lip. There was so much she just hadn't thought through. Maybe she should have gone to the cabin. Maybe a weekend upstate would have been perfect. Maybe it was one thing to talk every day, but in person-

"Breathe," she heard, and she caught his eye to see his eyes narrowed as he watched her. "Beckett, I'm- I didn't mean anything by it. Let's just… freshen up, then… we could go explore?"

"Okay." She forced herself to exhale. "Good idea."

* * *

Awkward. That was the only word for it. Without a case between them, an ocean between them, the buffer was missing, and Castle didn't know what to do. What he wanted to do was to share a room. What he wanted was to kiss Kate. What he wanted was to lay her down on the bed, and-

He shook his head, stopping his fantasies in their tracks. It wouldn't do to get too caught up in the idea of a naked Kate Beckett writhing beneath his ministrations when she was actually, really and truly naked in the bathroom right now.

He swallowed, scanning the room in an attempt to find something - anything - to distract himself, when he saw it.

Thank god.

* * *

"I figured we could use a coffee before we go explore the town," he said, holding the cup out to her as she emerged from her bedroom. She took it, their fingers brushing, and he watched closely as she tilted it to her mouth, her lips upturned as she swallowed.

Her small smile only grew as she took another mouthful, exhaling in something like relief and he grinned, relaxing at last.

This side of the Atlantic, or that, he still had the ability to make her smile by bringing her coffee and letting the caffeine flood her veins.

"Did you make yourself one?" she asked, her mouth still quirked happily, and he nodded, lifting his own cup in answer. She downed the rest of hers, indicating to the door with a tilt of her head. "What are we waiting for?"

* * *

The hotel was in a wonderful location, and as they left its sanctuary the crowd of tourists threatened to sweep them up; chirps of too many languages jumbled around them, and Beckett grinned, her ears perking up at the sound of Spanish - _Spanish_ Spanish, not the New York variety Espo spoke - and then Russian, as well as a nearby American twang, easy to ignore as she focused on the other sounds around her.

German, perhaps, or was that Dutch?

She smiled, beaming up at Castle and, without letting herself over think it, she grasped his hand, unwilling to be separated from him in the crowd.

"Come on," she urged. "That's the Charles Bridge. Let's go."

He nodded, letting her lead them across the cobbled street and onto the bridge, joining the swell of people who lingered on the bridge, fighting to get closer to the artists peddling their wares. "Look," he said, pointing. "That's the lucky statue."

He was the one tugging on her hand now, and she followed him across, letting the swell of the crowd wash them toward it. "Saint John," she said softly. "If you touch the cross you can make a wish."

"Let's do it," he enthused, and she chuckled.

"You, wanting to touch things… you haven't changed," she teased, and he grinned at her, unable to deny her comment.

He opened his mouth but whatever he was going to say was swept away by the whoop of a tourist behind them, and he laughed instead. "It's a little early to be that drunk, right?" he asked, and she chuckled.

"It's Prague," she pointed out. "Land of inexpensive beer."

Castle's face lit up. "True. I know I can never go past a glass of Hefeweizen but when in the city of beer…"

"I think it's the city of a hundred spires," she interjected, and he grinned.

"Touché. But my research indicates we can get a pint for less than a pound, so-"

"A pint? A pound? Listen to you there, with your English words."

He shrugged. "Either way, I want to try some Czech Pilsner, and I-" They were jolted from behind, and he frowned. "And I want to find someplace a little less crowded."

Kate nodded, not exactly disagreeing; for a New Yorker this many people shouldn't be overwhelming, but it was nevertheless a little much. "Come on," she said, pointing to the statue and reaching up to place her hand across the worn bronze of the cross.

"What did you wish for?" Castle asked before she'd even dropped her arm.

"Ha! If I tell you that it won't come true," she said, her cheeks warming as she spoke. What could she say? That the hand-holding was not even close to enough? But god - she rolled her eyes at herself - just months ago she and Castle had been at each other's throats and now she wanted-

She'd wanted him then, too.

The silent admission burned in her veins as she let the wave of honesty wash through her. She'd _wanted_ him since the evening she'd first brought him in for questioning; his antagonistic flirtation setting something alight in her, waking her just as she fought against it, focusing again and again on the childish side, the annoying side, the man-child side.

The flirtatious writer. The shameless playboy. The reckless investigator.

She'd pushed back, pulling on blinkers as she'd steadfastly ignored the other facets of his personality.

The loving father. The faithful friend. The intoxicating man.

She swallowed; she'd been silent so long, and she forced a smile onto her face.

"Come on, Castle. Make your wish, and then we can go see the Prague Castle."


	10. Chapter 10

**April 2010**

"Beckett, this is amazing!" Castle breathed out, daring Kate to read between the lines.

Yes, the castle was amazing - "Pražský hrad," Beckett had read aloud, and to his ears, nothing had ever sounded sexier.

"Prashky rad," he'd repeated after her, and she'd giggled, honest to goodness giggled, at his faltering pronunciation, before flashing him a grin.

"Guess you're better with English," she smirked, but there was no malice in her tone, just an honest joy that he thought - _thought_ \- was born from having a new language to explore. And perhaps, just maybe, she was happy to be there with him.

"Stunning," Beckett said, staring up at the Cathedral in front of them. "Ready?"

Castle nodded, letting her nudge him toward the entrance of the Prague Castle. Yes, this was amazing alright; the entire journey from the Charles Bridge, and Beckett was yet to let go of his hand.

They fell silent as they walked through the great church, the crowd surging around them as they meandered, their fingers interlocked as they trod upon the marble floor.

"The stained glass is incredible," Beckett murmured at last, tugging at Castle's hand and pulling him to a stop. He halted beside her, daring to edge in a little closer than might be socially acceptable, were they back in New York working a case, but Beckett just beamed at him. The filtered light casting a hazy glow across her face, and he leaned forward, brushing a strand of hair from her eyes as he stared into them, the hazel greener than ever in the warm surroundings of the building.

"Mmm," he agreed, unable to stop himself any longer; he leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers, closing his eyes as he felt her return the kiss, smiling into him as they touched. Soft, so soft, and he opened his mouth, daring to deepen the kiss before she jerked away, her cheeks aflame.

"Sorry!" she exclaimed, taking a step back, but still clutching his hand, and he felt his brow furrow.

"Sorry? Sorry!" he exclaimed. But-

Sorry. No. No, he wasn't sorry but if she-

"No. No!" she said, her head shaking frantically as she tried to form words. She wasn't sorry? She was-

Rick swallowed, bringing his other hand to his head and scrubbing it through his hair before attempting to speak again. "Beckett?"

"Not sorry!" she clarified. "But- not _here_. Not in a church. It's-" she heaved out a sigh, her fingers tightening around his, an iron grip that spoke volumes more than her words were; she wasn't letting him go.

He let himself relax, exhaling as the tension left his body, and he gazed down at her, pulling her closer again and pressing a kiss to her forehead, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Come on," she whispered, tugging him back toward the entrance of the church. "Let's go."

* * *

Through the crowd, she led him away from the cathedral, stopping at last once they were a reasonable distance from the masses. She leaned over the edge of the low castle walls, gazing across the city, the orange roofs aglow against the clear blue sky.

"You okay?" he murmured, bringing his mouth as close to her ear as he dared, and she nodded, turning back to him.

"Overwhelmed?" she offered, and he nodded.

That was fair. From a few phone calls to _this_ \- kissing in a romantic foreign city - he, too, was struggling to catch his breath. "Good overwhelmed?" he asked, and she nodded shyly, her cheeks pink.

"It's just… a couple of months ago you know what Lanie told me?"

She paused, and he nodded for her to continue, leaning into her to hear the rest of the story and letting her scent envelope him as he did so.

"She - she said we were in-" she hesitated again, before the rest of the sentence tumbled out. "A long distance relationship." Beckett laughed, shaking her head and Castle smiled as her hair whipped around her face. It had been so short when he'd left New York. "And I said we weren't, that we were just friends-"

"And?" he urged her.

"And we're… not just friends, are we?" She ducked her head away as though she had said too much, and he took the opportunity to drop her hand, cupping her face in both of his.

"We're… not just friends," he confirmed, bringing his mouth to hers again, and this time she melted into him, pliant in his arms, her body soft and supple against his chest, her mouth hot against his.

This time, instead of the hesitant kiss inside the church, her tongue sought his, the barely there moans coming from her only serving to encourage him as he pulled her to him, pushing her harder against the wall in an attempt to get closer.

"Wow," he managed as they broke apart, and he was suddenly all too aware of the fact that again, if not inside an actual church, they were nevertheless at Prague's most popular tourist destination and that they were most definitely not alone.

"Come on," she said, her own attempts to get her breathing under control not fooling him at all, and he grinned, happiness washing through him as he gazed at a very aroused Beckett; if that look in her eyes - all sex and lust - was what happened after a mere kiss, well, he couldn't wait to take her back to the hotel room and-

"Okay," he said, forcing his own desire to temper down. Right now? They needed to get out of here before he did something that would get them both arrested.

* * *

She'd kissed Castle. Oh, god. She'd kissed Castle, and hell, she'd practically ground against him when the opportunity had - she blushed as she thought the word - arisen.

She brought her thumb to her mouth, biting down on the nail as she tried to get a handle on her own feelings. The rush of passion she'd felt, though, was astonishing. No matter how often they'd spoken in the last few months, no matter how much she'd tried to convince herself that it was friendship, and friendship only, that she felt for her former partner, she could deny it no longer.

She had feelings for him.

And he clearly had feelings for her.

And their mutual attraction - which had simmered since the moment he'd asked her 'where would you like it?' - was gaining tempo, unavoidable now that they were together again.

Not for the first time since they'd kindled their friendship over the phone, Kate wondered just how she'd worked side by side the man for a year at the precinct without anything happening. It was true, she guessed - absence made the heart grow fonder. Or something. Then again, if she were to be completely honest with herself, she had to admit that many a night Castle had featured in her thoughts, both waking and sleeping, and today's kiss was both a promise and a realization. The promise of what was to come, and the realization of what had been brewing since she'd accepted his offer of plane tickets.

The realization of what had been brewing since March last year.

They had to go back to the hotel.

Now.

* * *

 _You have no idea_.

He'd had no idea.

None.

And now, caught up in the haze of muddled time zones and tangled sheets, all he knew was that his skin was humming.

 _That_ scene - the tequila, the sex - had been a mere shadow, nothing compared to its reality.

Then again, he supposed he shouldn't be so shocked.

The promise had been there from the start, even before they'd begun their… whatever this was.

"Beckett?" he asked.

"Mmm?" Her voice was muffled from where she was nestled against his chest, and he moved his hand, running it rhythmically across her back; he couldn't get enough of her. Not now. Not-

He swallowed the thought. One step at a time, he reminded himself, but even with that, his mind fought back; they'd taken plenty of steps this afternoon. "Are you- are… we… uh?"

She laughed, a throaty sound, and shifted so she could meet his eyes. "You're the author, right? Surely you've got words for this?"

"Uh-" he started, indignant. He had words for this. He _did_. But the Beckett he knew was skittish, likely to run at any moment. Everything she did was measured and cautious and-

Everything she did was measured and cautious.

He huffed out a breath, half a laugh as he was suddenly faced with the reality of the situation in a way that had honestly not occurred to him before. He'd known she liked him, knew she hurried home from work to skype with him on a daily basis, knew there was something there. And then she'd come to Prague.

Katherine Beckett had let him buy her a plane ticket and fly her across an ocean.

The Beckett he knew… well, he could still be prudent with his thoughts and words, but Beckett really liked him.

If the last few hours were anything to go by, maybe even… loved him.

More confident now, he spoke again. "We're… together, right? This isn't…"

"A one-time thing?" She flashed him a look, the answer clear in her blazing green eyes even as she mocked him. "That depends on whether you're moving back to New York."

"As soon as I can," he promised, the words spilling out. "As soon as Alexis is done with her semester at school and I've finished my contract. June. July at the latest-"

She cut him off with a kiss, her mouth lazy against his, and then more insistent.

"Beckett," he managed to mumble against her lips, but she shook her head.

"No more talking, Castle."


	11. Chapter 11

**April 2010**

 _Drink tonight?_

The text message was direct and to the point, and Kate took another sip of her drink as she considered. It wasn't that she didn't want to meet Lanie for a drink, but she was jet lagged, and she missed-

She inhaled, letting the rich aroma of the coffee fill her nostrils, the scent of the warm caffeine flooding her system and lending her some calm.

She didn't want to meet Lanie.

Not because she didn't want to see her friend, of course not. But the interrogation that was sure to follow wasn't something she was particularly looking forward to.

"Yo, Beckett-" Across the room, Esposito stood up, the pad of paper in his hand held aloft as he indicated to it; the understood sign for 'we've caught a case, let's hoof it'. "39th and Lex," he elaborated, and she nodded, glancing at the phone in her hand. The message from Lanie was all but forgotten as she warred with the instinct to flip through to Castle's number and call him to ask him to the scene.

Crap.

Being back at work, after _that_ weekend?

This was torture.

And she didn't have her partner by her side to make it better. No one to bring her a coffee, and okay, yes, she'd figured out how to use the coffee machine. That didn't mean she liked using it. She scowled at the cup on her desk, its presence a sharp reminder of the fact this one was courtesy of Ryan.

 _See you at 8_ , she messaged back to Lanie, stabbing the words into the text before tucking the phone into her pocket and trailing Esposito toward the elevator.

* * *

"So… spill," Lanie directed her, and Beckett leaned back in her seat, taking a sip of her wine before answering her friend.

"Typical case, really," she started. "I mean - but wait, didn't Espo fill you in?"

Lanie's eyes narrowed. "Girl. Not what I was talking about, and you know it."

Kate laughed. "I went away for the weekend. I told you-"

"Yeah. Away. To a foreign romantic country, with _Castle_!"

Beckett shifted in her seat, taking another mouthful of her wine to buy herself some time before meeting her friend's eyes - oh, to hell with it - grinning. "Lanie," she said. "It was _amazing_."

* * *

Castle leaned back in his desk chair, the words on the page not holding his attention the way they should. Who would have thought, presented with the opportunity to write _Bond_ , he'd be staring into space and picturing the way his muse had looked, sleep mussed the first morning they'd woken up together.

She'd been curled up around him when he'd woken, and he'd been afraid to move, afraid to wake her, ruin the moment.

But then she'd stirred, her long limbs strong against his, and at last she'd opened her eyes, a satisfied smile making its way onto her face as she'd professed, "it wasn't a dream."

"Not a dream," he'd assured her, and then she was moving, her hips rolling against his, and if he'd been awake before now he was _really_ awake, and-

The apartment door slammed shut, and he threw his gaze at the clock in the corner of his screen. It was late. _Really_ late, far past any curfew Alexis had self-imposed, either here or in New York.

He stood up with a sigh, stretching as he did so before making his way into the entrance hall just in time to come face to face with Alexis.

"What are you doing out so late?" he started, before cocking his head to the side and taking her in; her eyes were red and puffy and the look on her face was one of defiance.

"Emma," she retorted, venom in her voice, and he shook his head, clearing his thoughts as he tried to focus on his daughter, pulling her toward him and walking her into the kitchen with his arm around her shoulder.

"Start at the start," he told her after he sat her down at the counter, pulling milk from the fridge in preparation for his patented specialty hot chocolate. "What happened?"

"It's nothing," Alexis said, but she wiped at her eyes, new tears betraying her words. "It's just Emma and I had a fight and then her friend said I was just a stuck up American, and then I tried to Skype Paige but she was at dinner with her parents so she couldn't talk."

The words tumbled out and Castle sighed, running his hands through his hair before turning some of his attention back to the hot chocolate. If only Alexis was a kid again. At the time looking after a baby, then a toddler, then a child had seemed hard.

None of those things had anything on dealing with a teenager. He grimaced, just thinking about it. Alexis was the best possible teenager he could have, and even still, he was at a loss to know what to do to fix it. Comfort food wasn't really the long-term answer, no matter how many marshmallows he piled onto their hot drinks.

Wordlessly, he passed Alexis a mug, still unsure what to say.

"I just," Alexis took a sip of her drink and lowered her voice as she admitted. "I want to go home."

"Oh, sweetheart," he said, rounding the counter and pulling her into a hug. "Me too," he mumbled into her hair, and she drew back from him, her eyes narrowing.

"What about Bond?"

"I didn't say we're going back… yet," he protested. "Just that… I want to."

"Things went really well in Prague, huh?" Alexis asked, her eyes darting to the map on the wall; she'd adorned the Prague marker with a red-love heart when he'd told her he was spending the weekend with Beckett, and nothing he'd said had been able to convince her that it was an innocent trip away.

"Yeah," Castle confessed, slumping down on the seat next to his daughter as he got ready to bare his soul. "Really well. Perfect, even. Until the end…"

* * *

The cab ride to the airport had been silent and Beckett had stared out of the window as the streets rushed by, the classic Prague buildings replaced by Czech suburbia, cobblestoned streets still romantic but lacking the magic of the Old Town.

"You okay?" Castle had asked at last, and she'd whipped her head around, her hair falling around her face even as her eyes flashed, before softening.

"I'm okay," she'd said, but he'd heard the lie in her voice, and he offered her a half-smile, reaching across the backseat to take her hand.

"I'm coming back soon," he'd promised, and she'd nodded, a weak smile on her lips that didn't quite make its way to her eyes.

"Here," the driver had announced, and Castle had torn his eyes from her face, pushing a handful of bills at the man before getting out of the car and making his way to the other side to open Beckett's door.

"What you said," he'd started, as they walked into the airport, "about… things being the same between us. It's going to be okay? We'll go back to talking every day, you'll tell me about your cases each night, I'll keep on being your long-distance consultant?"

She'd nodded, swallowing before stopping mid-stride, and he was reminded for a second of their walk at _Vy_ _šehrad_ , the _other_ Prague Castle, the way the grounds had been so silent, nothing like at _Pra_ _žský Hrad_. She'd stopped mid-stride to pull him into a kiss, causing him to fall silent with a touch of her lips to his, her mouth parting to grant him entrance.

But saying goodbye held none of the simplicity of that kiss; she had stopped in the middle of the airport, but otherwise this was different, her body language screaming her discomfort.

* * *

"And when we got to her gate she just… left. I mean, she said bye, and she - she kissed me -" Confessing that to his daughter was almost too much, and Alexis rolled her eyes.

"Dad, I _know_ what happens when two people in love go away for a weekend."

"What- we- you-" He shook his head, trying to get a grip on his usually excellent vocabulary.

"I'm just saying," Alexis continued. "But really, haven't you spoken to her since then?"

"She messaged to say she was back, and that she was heading to bed, and today she messaged to say she was going out with Lanie for drinks after work." He threw a glance at the wall clock in the living room. "Which must be… now."

Castle stared at Alexis as he drummed his fingers on his thigh.

"What do you think they're saying about me?"

"And then I screwed it all up," Beckett confessed as she accepted the next glass of wine that Lanie pressed into her hand. "Everything was perfect, and then I had to go and freak out and, oh - he's never going to want to talk to me again!"

She buried her face in her free hand, letting a soft moan escape.

"Why am I so bad at this, Lanie? I couldn't tell him how I really felt before he left, and now he probably thinks I hate him because once we were in the cab it felt like our perfect weekend was over, so I panicked!"

She looked back up to see her friend watching her with amusement. "Kate Beckett," Lanie said. "You need to call that man, and you need to call him _now_."

"It's late there," Kate protested, but Lanie shook her head, pointing to where her cell phone lay on the table.

"Like that's ever stopped either of you before." Lanie laughed. "I'll tell you what - seeing you with those dark circles around your eyes these last few months, and knowing it's from your secret long distance romance instead of working hundreds of hours of overtime -"

Kate silenced Lanie with a glare, before snatching her cell phone up and turning away from Lanie as she dialed.

She could fix this.

* * *

 **A/N: all the thank yous to you guys who are reading, and also to J &K for their fixing! x**


	12. Chapter 12

**May 2010**

Just one more month, Beckett reminded herself as she poured a coffee into her travel mug and clipped her shield to her pants. It had already been a couple of weeks since their trip to Prague, and that was a couple of weeks too long. Since that weekend they'd practically doubled their time spent together online and over the phone, but - the awkward goodbye at the airport well behind them - it wasn't close to enough.

She slid into her shoes, pulling a light jacket over her shirt and unlocked the apartment door, making her way onto the street and into the hustle and bustle of the city.

She took a sip of the coffee as she waited at the stoplight, yawning as the light flicked to green and she walked, following the swell of the crowd across the street and down into the subway station. She stifled another yawn as she pushed her metro card into the slot letting her onto the platform.

She leaned her head back as the carriage trundled its way through Manhattan's underground, closing her eyes in an attempt to shut out the cacophony of the morning commute.

She really needed more than three hours sleep.

Beckett chuckled to herself, taking another sip of her coffee.

What she really needed wasn't so much extra sleep but - more to the point - to live in the same time zone as Richard Castle again. She shook her head. If someone had told her a year ago that the infuriating man who'd burst into her life would become her life blood and her best friend, she would have laughed in their face.

Had someone suggested she'd fall in love with the arrogant jackass-

Well. She hummed quietly to herself, and stood as the train reached her station, alighting with the other passengers.

He wasn't a jackass anymore, and she knew better than to believe in the arrogance that he tried to force the world to see. No, he was an amazing man; a great father, a wonderful boyfriend and-

And he lived on the other side of the Atlantic.

She ran her fingers through her hair as she jogged up the steps to the street, widening her stride as she made her way to the precinct.

"Get a grip, Beckett," she muttered to herself as she walked through the doors of the 12th, making a beeline for the elevator and tapping her fingers against her thigh as it ascended, pinging on the third floor to let one of the robbery detectives off before it lurched upwards again, arriving at last on the fourth floor.

"Yo, Beckett, you're late," Esposito greeted her as she slid into her desk chair and flicked her computer on.

She shot him a look as she slammed her empty coffee cup down in front of her with a little more force than she'd intended.

"Yeah, Beckett, late night?" Ryan followed Javi's lead, the innocence in his eyes completely unconvincing. She rolled her eyes. It was clear the boys knew she was seeing someone, but she thought - hoped - Lanie had been as good as her word and not revealed the fact she was in a relationship with Castle.

"Haven't we got a murder to solve?" she retorted, avoiding their eyes as she logged into her PC and pulled up her email.

"Nope." Ryan beamed at her and she rolled her eyes as she searched for a response, coming up empty.

Three hours sleep. She leaned her head into her hands before standing and stalking into the break room. Another coffee would help.

Right?

* * *

Castle rubbed at his eyes, half-squinting as he glared at the sunshine streaming through the crack in the curtains. How was it so bright already?

He groaned, knowing the truth to that question. He and Beckett had been on Skype all night, only ending the call well after the sky had begun to lighten, meaning that Beckett only had, oh - he glanced at the his watch to try and work it out - three hours? Four, at the most?

Oops.

He had to stop doing that, making her stay up so late. But the trouble was, once they started talking it was so hard to stop. Last night, even, Alexis had woken in the wee hours, wandering bleary-eyed out into the kitchen to get a glass of water and stopping to say hello to Beckett

He rubbed his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. From the bedside table his laptop light blinked at him, a tell-tale sign that when he'd relocated into his bedroom toward the end of their conversation he'd neglected to charge it.

He stretched again, glaring at the hapless machine before connecting it to the power source. He _had_ to write today; faking another day of research - which usually ended in a game or two of _X-Box_ \- wasn't going to cut it. No, if he wanted to get back to writing _Nikki Heat_ any time soon, he needed to complete this Bond book.

Coffee would help, he told himself, making his way into the kitchen and dumping more than the usual amount of coffee grounds into the machine before switching it on. He watched blankly as the precious liquid filtered down into the pot, pulling the milk from the fridge and pouring some into his mug before filling it the rest of the way with coffee and taking a sip.

Perfect.

By now it would be mid-morning in New York, and he reached for his phone - lying on the counter and also nearly flat - and messaged Beckett a quick hello before attaching it to its charger and turning back to his bedroom, coffee in hand.

He had to write.

His email, however, had other ideas, his inbox filling and distracting him as he opened it. The usual marketing emails, a request from an old school friend to join LinkedIn - he declined that, was there a more boring social network out there? - and a forwarded email from Paula.

He opened that one, curious. Paula wasn't big on email. Typically a talker, she was more the type to show up at his front door unannounced, or talk his ear off over the phone. He smirked. Maybe the time difference had thrown her. That, and the fact she could no longer pound on his door in the pre-dawn hours as long as he was in London.

The smirk fell from his face as he scanned the email. _FYI_ , Paula had written above the body of text. _Perfect event. Let me know if you want me to book you in for it. Late notice, but would be good for your profile._ Below her short message was an invitation to the opening of an exhibition, on that weekend.

His eyes widened.

A _James Bond_ exhibition? He nodded. Very cool. So what if his heart wasn't racing with passion for _Bond_? The British spy was still the reason he'd become a writer, and he still loved the 'verse.

Besides that - and at this his heart skipped a beat, even as he hit the reply button to tell Paula to book him for the event - the exhibition was in New York City.


	13. Chapter 13

**May 2010**

This was weird. Kate had tried calling Castle when she'd arrived home last night, but his phone had been off, as was Skype. This morning she'd shot him a message in spite of the fact she knew he would be asleep, uncertainty welling in her stomach. She went through the motions, making coffee, pouring cereal into a bowl and eating almost half of it before she let herself pick up the phone again and dial Castle's number.

Nothing but voicemail.

"Hey… it's me…" she started, unsure what to say. "Just… checking in. Call me back, 'kay?"

She hung up, gripping the edge of the counter. Paranoia was swirling now, and she did her best to push it down, assuring herself that she did _not_ need to be that girl, the one who needed to know her boyfriend's whereabouts every minute of the day.

But it was strange. She mentally marked off what she knew, sizing up the facts.

Fact: Three days ago she and Castle had broken all records, talking for hours before she'd fallen into bed.

Fact: He had messaged her when he'd woken up the next day; she'd been at a body drop by then, and been late home, falling into bed with just a few more messages.

Fact: The following day she'd called him, intending to be both comforted by his voice during a messy case, and also to bounce theory around.

Fact. Castle had cut that phone call short.

Fact. She hadn't heard from him since.

She shook her head; would it be crazy to call Alexis?

She rolled her eyes at herself; Castle offline for eight or so hours wasn't worthy of a call to his daughter. In fact, it might even be a good thing. It might mean he was lost in writing, finally finishing up the _Bond_ book, and the sooner that happened, the sooner he would be free to move back to New York.

Pushing herself away from the counter, Kate buried the thoughts that were messing with her head this morning. She swallowed the last of the coffee in her cup before pouring a second one, this time into her travel mug.

Next up, she needed shoes before she could leave, and she stared at her collection before selecting a particularly high pair of heels; even if she didn't feel quite right, she could at least look the part.

She cast a final appraising look in the mirror next to the entrance before opening the door and stepping out into the hallway - and spilling her coffee all over Castle.

"What the hell?" Beckett exclaimed, the words past her lips before she'd even fully processed the fact Castle was there.

In the hallway.

Standing in front of her.

In New York City.

Before she could say another word he was kissing her, his mouth hot against hers, and she was kissing him back, letting him walk her back into her apartment and kicking the door closed with a kick.

"I spilled coffee on your shirt," she managed inanely as he drew away from her lips, pressing his mouth to her neck, and he nodded into her even as his teeth grazed the delicate skin of her throat and she swallowed back a moan.

"I'd better take it off then," he offered, his hands working their way from her waist to the top button on her blouse, unfastening it, and then the next, and the next.

"I didn't say there was anything wrong with mine," she protested, and he chuckled low in her ear, the sound sending shivers up and down her spine as her own hands made their way to his shirt, opening it and pushing it off him.

Her eyes closed of their own volition. He was here, really here.

* * *

Beckett buried her face in her hands as her cheeks warmed, and Castle looked at her, his sleepy eyes curious.

"What is it?"

"My coffee cup is on the floor in the hallway," she said, and he laughed.

"So is my suitcase."

"And I'm _really_ late to work," she added, glancing at the clock on the nightstand.

"Sorry," he said, but the smile dancing in his eyes betrayed the lie; he wasn't even a little bit sorry.

"What are you doing here?" she asked as she pushed the covers out of the way and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, looking at the trail of clothing that traced their path from the front door to her bed.

"Um… surprising you."

"Consider me surprised," she said, turning back to him. "But… what… why?"

"There's an event this weekend that I've been invited to… a Bond exhibition. It's tomorrow night."

"Oh." Beckett fell silent as she processed the information.

"So actually I was coming here to see if you would be my date," Castle continued, and she blinked at him as he ran a hand through his hair, then stretched. "I swear I didn't mean to…" he indicated the disheveled bed sheets, the clothing on the floor, "to do _that_. I mean. Not like that, right away."

Beckett shook her head, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his mouth before standing. "I'm not sorry," she whispered. "But I am running late now… I have to shower." She smiled as she walked to the bathroom, turning and raising her eyebrows at him. "You coming?"

* * *

"Are you sure it's okay for me to come into the precinct with you?" Castle asked as they approached the 12th, and Beckett cocked her head to the side in confusion.

"Since when do you ask permission?"

"Since…" he grinned. "Since never. I'm coming into the precinct with you."

She rolled her eyes. "But you have to act normal," she warned him, and he nodded, his eyes wide with feigned innocence.

"Of course."

"The boys can't know," she continued. "And Montgomery _definitely_ can't know!"

"Does anyone know?" he asked.

"Lanie," Kate admitted. "The boys know we... talk. But that's all. I think."

He nodded. "And Alexis," he added. "Okay, secret relationship, check."

"So they can't know I'm your date for the _Bond_ exhibition," she clarified, and he lifted a shoulder non-committally.

"But before we go in," Castle said, as they stood in front of the entrance, "I just need to do this." He ghosted a kiss onto her lips before pulling back with a grin. "Last liberty, I promise."

Beckett just raised an eyebrow at him before opening the front door, preceding him into the precinct and striding over to the elevator. "Remember, normal," she reiterated as she stepped inside, selecting the fourth floor. Beside her, Castle sidestepped a little, creating a fraction more space between them and she quirked her lips, closing the gap and stealing one more kiss before the doors opened and she stepped out onto homicide.

* * *

"Coffee?" Castle asked as they walked toward Beckett's desk. "Since your other one ended up on the floor?"

Beckett grimaced; their… _delay_ this morning meant the mug she'd spilled on Castle, then dropped, had soaked into the carpet in the hallway. She'd cleaned it up as best she could while Castle selected clean clothes from his suitcase, but as they'd hurried out the door the distinct scent of coffee had followed them.

"I can get it," she offered, but Castle shook his head.

"The boys will know something's up if we change our M.O. that much," he staged whispered, and she cringed at the volume in his voice.

"Speaking of the boys…" Across the bullpen Ryan and Esposito wore identical expressions of shock as Beckett and Castle approached.

"Aren't you…" Ryan started.

"In London?" Esposito finished off.

"Have they been working on that while I've been away?" Castle exclaimed, turning to Beckett in delight, and she smirked.

"Beckett, what's he doing here?" Esposito asked, and she shrugged, indicating to Castle with a tilt of her head.

"Ask him yourself."

"Not that we're not happy to see you-" Ryan flustered, "but…"

"Just came by to see how you're treating my coffee machine," Castle answered, but Esposito had a retort ready.

"More like how Beckett's doing with no one here to make her coffee-"

Castle flashed Beckett a quick look before Ryan chimed in. "Hey, man, speak for yourself. I, for one, am really good at using the machine now."

"He is," Beckett confirmed as they walked into the break room. She leaned against the counter, watching as Castle took his place at the espresso machine, deftly making four lattes. His hand brushed against hers as he handed her one, and she smiled, letting the touch linger for half a second too long before she jerked back, schooling her features in case Ryan or Esposito noticed anything amiss.

"So you want to catch me up on the latest case?" Castle asked, and Beckett smiled, indicating with a nod of her head to the white board out in the bullpen.

"It's a quirky one," she promised.

* * *

"I thought we'd never get out of there," Castle exclaimed as he carried the Chinese food and a bottle of wine into Beckett's apartment.

"But you were so desperate to get to the precinct," she teased, and he shook his head.

"I was desperate to spend the day with you," he promised, his eyes dark. "And we're alone at last."

"Alone and hungry for Chinese," Beckett pointed out, toeing off her shoes and closing the door behind them.

"Not just Chinese," Castle argued, brushing a kiss against her cheek as he made his way into her kitchen, selecting two wine glasses and pouring the red into them.

"So is Martha excited you're back?" Beckett asked, moving toward the sofa, her dinner balanced in one hand.

"Oh." Castle's face twisted into a comical look of surprise, the cushions huffing as he sat with a thump. "I mean… I messaged her to tell her I was coming for the weekend, but…"

"…But you haven't seen her or spoken to her since you got here, right?"

"I've been with you all day," he protested. "I got off my flight at JFK, and caught a cab here. I had to hurry, otherwise I would have been too late and I would have had to meet you at the precinct?"

"Would that have been so bad?" she asked.

"Only if you have a problem with me taking you in a supply closet…" Beckett narrowed her eyes, trying her best to fix him with a _look_ , but if the twinkle in his expression was anything to go by, she was failing miserably. "Would you prefer the break room? Because I wouldn't have minded, but once we got there the boys stuck to us like glue!"

Kate huffed; that they had. Every time she'd thought she and Castle might have a moment alone, one or both of the boys had appeared, making her paranoid as she'd checked and re-checked that she and Castle were suitably far enough away from one another to pass as colleagues, rather than lovers.

"You need to go see Martha," she urged, changing the subject back, but Castle shook his head, letting his eyes close a little.

"I'm jet lagged, Kate. I think it's best if I stay here with-" He swallowed, his eyes wide now, as if afraid he'd said too much. "I mean. If you want. I was thinking- but- no. You're right. I should go home. I shouldn't presume-"

"Castle," Beckett said, managing to get a word in, even as she thrilled silently at being called _Kate_ instead of Beckett. "I want you to stay." She bit her lip. "I want you all to myself tonight."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you Jamie and Kylie for the beta! And thank you to everyone who is reading! x**


	14. Chapter 14

**May 2010**

* * *

"So tell me," Kate said as she crawled into bed beside Castle. "How is your writing really going?"

"Which one?" he mumbled back, his eyes shut, his face heavy with sleep.

"Which what? Writing. Bond."

"Oh…" he let out a huff of a laugh, eyes still closed as he pulled her toward him. "Him. _Bond_. Mmm."

Kate shook her head, curling into her boyfriend. The day swirled in her mind. Maybe trying to converse with him now wasn't the best idea, but they hadn't had a chance until now; brunch in the morning, before stopping by the loft to visit Martha, then getting ready, and going to the _Bond_ exhibition.

"Hello, Katherine, darling," Martha had greeted her, the woman's knowing smile causing Kate to blush.

"Hello, Mother," Castle had said pointedly, regarding her with narrowed eyes, but she'd just lifted an eyebrow at him.

"Richard, I'd love to stay and chat with you and your detective all day-" Martha had dismissed her son as quickly as they'd arrived, "but I have people to see, and you can't expect me to wait around all day here when you clearly have better things to do." She'd pecked a kiss against Castle's cheek, letting him know she wasn't really mad, before breezing out of the loft.

From there, Castle had insisted on stalking around his apartment to see just how many changes Martha had managed to make in his short absence; he swore a vase had been broken, and the piano relocated.

"Okay, babe, get what you need and let's go," Beckett had said at last. "Wait until you move back here before you start cataloging all of your mother's supposed transgressions."

He'd sighed, overly dramatic as he'd trudged into his bedroom to find a tux in his closet, and she'd perched on the edge of his bed, amused at the scene before her; it was entirely possible Castle had double the number of clothes she had.

Their day had been punctuated with sex; pre brunch, then again at the loft - she'd pinched herself at the reality of being in Richard Castle's bed - before returning to her apartment to get ready for the event.

The _Bond_ exhibition over, Kate had to confess that being on his arm for the evening… well, it hadn't sucked. And with any luck, should any pictures make it to Page Six, neither the boys nor Lanie would spot them. If they did, though… she shrugged. So be it. Castle was moving home next month, and at some point they would have to come clean about their relationship.

"Yes, _Bond_ ," she continued. "What else would you be writing?"

Castle's eyes remained closed, a sleepy smile gracing his lips as he finally answered, his voice more slurred than ever, and Kate wondered if by now he was sleep talking. _"Nikki_ …"

* * *

Beckett hugged her knees up to her chest as she stared out the window. Castle lay in the bed, fast asleep, and she glanced at him every so often, reassured by the light rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

 _Nikki_.

What the hell had he meant by that?

Every mention of writing tonight had been of _Bond_ , self-assured statements to the media and event organizers that the next installment of the British spy series was near a done deal, that publication was mere months away.

"I can't _stop_ writing," he'd said to more than one admirer, but each time he'd thrown a quick look in her direction, one she was helpless to interpret. At the time she'd wondered if he was trying to reassure her that, having abandoned _Nikki_ , he hadn't abandoned her. Or, alternatively, perhaps he was looking at her nervously, afraid she would catch him in a lie; perhaps the writing was, in fact, going badly.

Maybe, though, what he meant was that he was moonlighting on his _Bond_ contract. Perhaps there was life to _Nikki_ after all. "There wasn't enough to the character," he'd told her when they'd fought so many months ago, and at the memory she huffed out a sad laugh.

Times had changed since then, so much for the better; but what was next?

If Castle moved back to New York City, what would really happen?

Would he really return to the precinct? Or would _Bond_ be enough for him now? He'd complained to her, more than once, about the dull work he'd been exposed to at MI6; was that real? Or was it something he'd said to make her feel better?

How could homicide compete with spy work?

She sighed, leaning her head against the cold glass.

It couldn't.

She brought a hand to her face, shocked to find tears rolling down her cheeks, and she wiped at them, surprised at how maudlin she'd become. Kate took a deep breath, swallowing and forcing herself to regain her composure. There was no reason for this. None. Her boyfriend had come back from London for the weekend, they'd just enjoyed a night out, and he was moving back permanently in another month.

She had to get it together.

Never before had she cared where her relationships were going; not even with Will. Not following him to Boston was barely a decision, and now she was - what? - wondering where this was going?

"Beckett?" Castle's voice, gravelly with sleep, broke through her reverie, and she blinked, looking over at him.

"Castle? Go back to sleep," she suggested, trying to keep her voice even.

"Jet lag," he responded, and she nodded. "What are you doing over there?"

"Couldn't sleep," she admitted, but she stood, letting her unsteady legs take her back to bed, climbing under the covers that Castle held open for her.

"Come here," he mumbled, pulling her close, and she let him tug her into his arms, resting her head on his broad chest. "You okay?"

Kate nodded. "I'm fine. Just… tired."

"Sleep then," Castle said, and she laughed.

"I could say the same to you," she pointed out.

"Let's not sleep together, then," he suggested, bringing his mouth to her throat and kissing her, and she let herself sink into his touch, pushing away the doubts that had clouded her mind.

* * *

"Castle," she asked, as she poured the coffee the next morning, studiously avoiding his eyes. "When you- last night-"

"What about last night?" he replied, and she caught the lazy grin on his face as she glanced at him.

"Not _that_ ," she laughed. "Before that. I asked what you were… writing. And you said… _Nikki_."

"Huh?" Castle narrowed his eyes at her in consternation. "Yeah… so?"

"So… you're writing _Bond_ , not _Nikki_ , right?"

He cocked his head in confusion, accepting the coffee that she handed him and taking a sip before answering. "I'm writing both."

"You're-" Beckett stopped, blinking as she took it all in; not just his words, but his matter of fact tone, as though this was something she was supposed to know. "You're writing _Bond… and_ you're writing _Nikki_? How does that even work?"

Castle shrugged. "Depends who you ask. According to Gina, not very well." He chuckled. "But I'm meeting my deadlines, so she can't really complain. And Paula- well, she's just happy about the idea of having two books to release this year. Figures it will send the press a message. Plus, then Patterson can stop-" He broke off mid-sentence. "Wait. You know all this."

Beckett shook her head. "No I don't. I thought you were finished with _Nikki_."

"But I've been writing the second _Nikki Heat_ since January. I must have told you. It's due for publication at the end of this year. Paula wants it out in time for Christmas sales."

"Huh. You… never mentioned it." Beckett sank down into the chair at her kitchen table. "So does this mean when you come back for good, next month, you're shadowing me again?"

Castle laughed, leaning down and pressing a kiss into her hair. "I've already cleared it with the mayor and Montgomery. You're my inspiration for _Nikki Heat_. Of course I'm coming back."

* * *

 **A/N: thank you. x**


	15. Chapter 15

**June 2010**

* * *

 _We're boarding now._

The message was short and to the point, and Beckett smiled in relief as she typed out a quick reply. _See you in six hours._

Was it possible that the last four weeks had passed even more slowly than the four months preceding Castle's surprise visit to New York? It was, she concluded. It most certainly was. Maybe because she'd seen how good they could be together in their home city; the time he'd spent at the precinct, the time they'd spent at her apartment - in bed and otherwise - and the moments they'd shared at the _Bond_ exhibition that they'd attended.

Maybe, though, time had moved so slowly because after appearing together on Page Six, Esposito and Ryan - and yes, they'd most definitely seen the pictures and accompanying headlines - hadn't let up on the teasing. Work days without her partner at her side, the boys in her face every chance they got, were long and tiring.

Then again, in spite of the fact she was officially denying she'd been at the event as anything other than a friend, she wasn't entirely sure she minded.

Her biggest fear, that Castle would no longer be allowed to partner her at the 12th, was meritless; the Captain had called her into his office the day Castle had flown back to London. Montgomery had stared her down across his desk, his intimidation tactics - to Beckett's shame - working, as she confessed aloud what she refused to say to Ryan or Esposito; she and Castle were dating.

Eventually, though, Roy had spoken, laughing as he assured Beckett that as a consultant to the NYPD, rather than a fellow homicide detective, Rick would continue to be most welcome in the precinct.

A last message flashed on her phone, and Kate bit her lip, not sure why, exactly, she was attempting to hide the smile.

 _New York, here we come_.

Castle was coming home.

* * *

Why was he so nervous?

It wasn't like this was his first trip back since moving to London, and it wasn't like he hadn't seen Beckett twice since he'd left.

He pulled his suitcase off the luggage carousel, watching as Alexis did the same when her bag appeared moments later.

This was different, because it was real.

Beside him, his daughter chatted on, oblivious to his discomfort. "And I'm just so happy Emma is coming out here to visit," she told him. "And I can't wait for her to meet Paige, and well, everybody."

"Uh-huh," he managed in response, as he fished through his carry on for his passport.

"But it's so great that we're coming home," she continued, and he nodded. "It's so cool that I got to do a semester abroad, but I missed New York so much."

"Me too, sweetie," he agreed, as they approached the line for customs.

Alexis finally fell silent as they presented their passports and were waved back into their home country. In his chest, his heart pounded as they walked through to the arrivals hall. Would she be here? She'd said she would be, but their flight had come in a little early, so if she'd been delayed, or if she'd caught a case-

"Detective Beckett!" Alexis was off and racing, having spotted his girlfriend before he had, and he followed after his daughter, his chest swelling with pride as she embraced Kate, who looked thoroughly taken aback by Alexis' warm greeting.

Kate hugged Alexis in turn, managing to extract herself from the tight grasp as he walked over to them; it was taking all his restraint to keep his limbs moving at an even pace instead of dropping his luggage and dashing toward her.

"Hey," he said, nudging into her and releasing his suitcase at last, letting the bag fall at his feet as she slid into his arms.

"Hey," she whispered back, and he pressed his lips to hers - all too briefly - releasing her with regret, conscious of the fact Alexis was standing beside them.

Beckett just smiled up at him. "Come on," she said. "Let's get you guys home."

* * *

"Darlings!" Martha cried as she came through the front door, positively beaming as her granddaughter threw herself at her. "You're back, you're back!"

Castle embraced his mother more sedately than Alexis had done, and Beckett watched on amused, until - taken aback - Martha hugged her too, impulsive and warm, her smile wide as Kate hesitated then returned the embrace.

"Are we celebrating? We should be celebrating," Martha declared. "I see Katherine is already here, but what about the rest of your friends from the precinct?"

"Yes, let's call them," Castle said, looking at Beckett. "See if they want to come over for dinner?"

"You don't want to, I don't know, sleep?" she suggested.

The look he gave her was enough to make her blush, but he kept his mouth shut - something for which she was grateful, in the presence of his family - and she nodded. Okay. Bed would wait, she would call them.

* * *

The boys spilled into the apartment, talking over one another as they clapped Castle on the back, macho friendliness disguising the genuine delight in their eyes that spoke of how pleased they were to have Castle home.

"This is Jenny," Ryan said at last, introducing the blond woman at his side, and Beckett stepped forward, shaking her hand with a smile. The famous Jenny, at last.

"Yo, Beckett, you been here long?" Esposito asked, the feigned innocence on his face all too telling. "When you cut out of work early I thought you were sick."

"I was meeting Castle at the airport," she told him, suddenly tired of the thin veil of secrecy, that, frankly, wasn't holding up in any case. "I've been here with my boyfriend since then."

Esposito's eyes bulged, and Ryan smirked. "Told you it would be all out in the open before the end of the night," he said under his breath, the words still reaching Beckett, and she raised her eyebrows as she watched Espo pull his wallet from his back pocket, opening it and slapping some bills into Ryan's waiting hand.

"Sit down, sit down," Castle urged them, shepherding them into the dining area as another familiar face appeared in the doorway. "Lanie," he greeted the M.E.

"Delightful, everyone is here," Martha called out from the kitchen, carrying the chicken and placing it on the table next to the bowls of vegetables. "Now, just help yourselves to whatever you like. Richard, have you poured everyone wine?"

Castle winked at Beckett, and she sat down beside him, letting him pour her a glass of red before he passed the bottle to Ryan.

"So how was living in London?" Jenny asked, but Esposito shook his head.

"Wrong question," he informed her. "The right question is how was living in London without Beckett? And when, exactly, did the two of you get together? When you came back here in May?"

"April," Castle said, and Beckett nodded in agreement, her cheeks warming as below the table, Castle rested his hand on her thigh.

Alexis shook her head, shooting her father a sly look before turning to Esposito and informing him, "January."

"January! Beckett!" Ryan exclaimed. "And you kept it a secret since then?"

"January," Castle scoffed. "No. No, we didn't get together until we went to Prague-"

"You went to _Prague_?" Ryan demanded.

"You _knew_ about this?" Esposito asked Lanie, indignant, and she exchanged a look with Beckett before shrugging.

"The evidence was right there. _You_ were the one who told me Beckett was always on the phone to Castle." She laughed. "Please, Javier - and you, Ryan - you call yourselves detectives?"

Beckett buried her face in her hands as Castle spoke. "Just how do you figure _January_ , Alexis?"

"That was when the phone calls started," she told him.

"But they were just phone calls," he protested.

"Six hour conversations aren't _just_ phone calls," his daughter assured him, reaching to help herself to another potato and apparently dismissing the topic.

"Can you believe this?" Castle asked Beckett, and she laughed. Could she believe it? Thinking back to those early conversations, no, she couldn't quite believe they were here now. Memories came flooding back to her though. Skype dates and movie marathons. Allowing Castle to see just enough skin, admiring his arms as he lay in bed, laptop in front of him. The way Castle had called on the ninth of January.

She'd come home in tears, mourning her mother, that day.

She'd hung up the phone, hours later, drained but happy.

"I think they're right," she admitted to Castle, lacing her fingers through his, no longer concerned whether the others saw them. "I think we've been in a relationship since January."

* * *

 **A/N: Oh, my. So I started this one a LONG time ago and I am SO glad I finished it. I think a lot of you loved it, and that makes me really glad. Anyway, bowing down to my betas, and thanking you guys for reading. Until next time and next story, you'll find me on twitter... honeyandvodka x**


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